How do you choose between true love and true love?
by Sahara Dickens
Summary: There's never been a question about Shane's love for Claire. But what happens when the only other girl he loved comes along? Where does that leave Claire and Shane? Hell, where does that leave Hazel and Shane? Is Shane's love for Claire strong enough? No?
1. Chapter 1

**I'm going to tell you the reason why I wrote this. I wanted more of Shane and frankly, I can't wait until May, so I wrote.**  
><strong>If anyone has any good suggestions on were to find GOOD Shane- fanfiction. Then, please. Write.<br>This is set right after _Bite Club._**

**_Enjoy,_ **

I take a deep breath and knock on the door leading into the Glass house. I hear a couple of shouts before the door opens, revealing a girl in heavy goth make-up and a dress made up of a corset and a black tutu skirt. She widens her eyes at me and lets out a yell.  
>The yell is Eve Rosser's way of greeting people.<br>I smile at her and extend my arms and laugh out loud as she crashes into me.  
>"Easy, easy. You'd think I've been gone for a thousand years," I laugh.<br>Eve draws back and narrows her eyes at me. "I'm sorry, did you say something, person-who-left-without-saying-goodbye?"  
>I smile at her. "I'm sorry about that. But I'm here now, aren't I? Can I come in?"<br>"God, yes," Eve says and steps back.

I see Michael sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a guitar on his lap. He looks up and his face lights up with surprise before splitting into a grin. "Hazel!" He puts his guitar on the couch as he comes and wraps his arms around me.  
>I throw my arms around him and squeeze before I pull back to look up at him. "You look good, Angel. Different, but good. You could use some sun, man."<br>"Hazel?"  
>I turn around at the sound of my name and laugh when I see Shane standing by the door leading into the kitchen with a ladle in his hand. Happiness floods my chest.<br>He has a second to prepare himself before I throw myself in his arms and wrap my legs around his hips. I bury my face in the nook of his neck and exhale. "God." I breathe in his scent.  
>His arms wrap around me and I pull back a little, just so that I can look into his eyes. " God, I missed you," I murmur before I press my lips to his. They're soft and lush, and I sense just a second's hesitation before he gives me a kiss that is just as warm and damp as I remember his kisses to be.<br>I sense someone coming into the room. "What's going –" it's a girl, I manage to make out in my head. "Shane?"  
>His name seems to make him stop moving his lips and he draws back.<br>I turn around to look at the new arrival and find myself looking at a short girl with long dark hair and huge eyes. She narrows her eyes at me as she studies my position on Shane. "Oh, who's this?" I ask, beaming at her.  
>"My girlfriend," I hear Shane answer.<br>I turn to look at him and widen my eyes at his apologetic face. "Seriously?" I ask.  
>But instead of him answering, the girl on the stairs does, "Seriously."<br>I don't know how to respond at first; I don't know if I should be shocked or just plain hurt. The shock is there, but it subsides giving way to hurt. I didn't believe he would wait for me. Not after I left the way I did. I hoped. God, how I had hoped, but it had been too good to be true. Even then, I knew this, when I shouldered my backpack and zipped his jacket around me; when I closed the door to the only home I had ever known and justified it with that I was doing it in order to pursue my dreams.

Mortification burns at my face as I look into Shane's eyes. His don't look into mine, though, they're looking into his girlfriend's. It would've taken everything in me not to tear at the girl who is holding Shane the way I am now. I'm surprised she isn't.  
>"Oh my God," I murmur and drop my limbs from around him. "Oh my God." I land on my feet when he lets go and look at the girl. "I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, I swear." I look at Shane and opt for humor. "You could have said <em>something<em>."  
>His face turns incredulous. "You didn't give me a chance!"<br>Eve laughs. "You've always been one to make an entrance, sweetie."  
>I extend a hand towards Shane's girlfriend which she eyes suspiciously. "I'm really sorry," I manage to say around the hurt. "I promise, it won't happen again. I honestly had no idea."<br>She looks at me before she nods and takes my hand. "Claire Danvers."  
>I smile at her. I try to keep it from turning into a grimace. "Hazel Drew. It's nice to meet you." I drop her hand. "How long have you been living in Morganville?"<br>"About two years," she says.  
>Eve comes to wrap an arm around my shoulders and draws me close. "How about we step into the kitchen and catch up? I'm warning you, though. Shane's cooking."<br>I look at him, grinning. Something tells me that my smile looks broken but I dismiss it. I've always been a good actress. "Let me guess; chili. This can't be good."  
>He points the ladle at me. "Be nice."<br>My grins widens. It almost feels like old times.

I take a deep breath. "Alright, let me get this straight." I look at Michael. "You spent a period of time as a ghost because _Oliver_ – who is an evil _vampire_ – didn't manage to turn you into a full vampire but Amelie completed the transformation."  
>Michael nods. I turn to look at Shane. "And your dad came back to town, racked havoc, became a vampire and lives right now as a disembodied brain in a jar that has been wired into a machine. Correct?"<br>"Yeah," Shane mutters. "It was either him or Claire, so…" He shrugs.  
>I lean back in my chair and breathe out. "Well. And here I thought this was a small, boring town." I put a hand on Eve's shoulder beside me and squeeze it. "How about you, crazy?"<br>"Well," she smiles before she shoves her left hand at me. "I'm engaged."  
>"Oh my God." I take her hand to look at the ring; the diamond is gorgeous, laced intricately into the band. Obviously, it was silver. Eve did not do gold. The fact that the ring is silver proves that she's marrying someone who knows her well. "Oh my God. To who?"<br>"I never told you. Michael and I started going out a while after you left Morganville," she turns to smile at Micheal who returns it. A pang goes through me at the love in their eyes. I try not to remember the only person who ever looked at me that way. "And not too long ago he proposed," she turns to look at me, clapping her hands in glee, her grin clashing with the dark make-up she's always loved to wear.  
>I laugh and look at Micheal. "So how did you do it? Down on one knee, puppy-eyes, romantic speech?"<br>He fidgets and remains silent so Eve answers for him. "The whole shabang," she grins.  
>"Whoa. Maybe we should ease off on the girly factor and return to more neutral grounds," Shane says, leaning backwards in his chair. It's very hard for me to not eye the way his sweatshirt is hugging his wide shoulders.<p>

Eve flips him off. "So, Hazel," she says, drawing out my name. "What about _you_?"  
>I laugh at her attempt to annoy Shane. "What <em>about<em> me?"  
>"You know what I'm talking about. Don't you dare hold out on me. I want to hear all about hot, blue-eyed Californian boys with rock-hard abs and sun-bleached hair. Spill." Her dark eyes glitter with excitement.<br>I laugh. "I don't see why since you're marrying one," I nod at Micheal, grinning at him. "Blond, blue- eyed, and I bet he's got things going on underneath that shirt." I wink at Eve. "Of course, you should know."  
>Shane rolls his eyes as Eve laughs and Micheal starts to collect the plates. Claire looks at Micheal's uncomfortable stance as he carries the plates to the counter and she smiles. It's a tiny, amused thing and for just a split second, I can see a glimpse of why Shane's with her. But then it's gone and I turn to meet Eve's eyes as she regains the conversation. "Don't distract me! Answer my question. Who is he?"<br>I laugh. "I swear, Eve. There is no one."  
>Her face turns incredolous and even Micheal turns to look at me from the counter. "Are you telling me, that you've been in California for three years and you haven't met <em>anyone<em>? Do you want me to guilt you into telling me? 'Cause I totally would. And before you ask," she holds out a finger, "yes, I would sink that low."  
>I laugh. God, I've missed her. "Seriously–," then I pause. I'm not going to lie. "Well, there was this one guy."<br>I half-expect Shane to comment; at least roll his eyes or give an experted sigh, but there's nothing.  
>"No shit." Eve rolls her eyes but she's grinning. "Who?"<br>"It was around last year, I think. I met him in the studio; he came with his friend to see my paintings and," I smile at the memory. "He didn't believe that I was the artist. It kind of pissed me off."  
>Eve raises an eyebrow.<p>

"Okay, it _did_ piss me off. I'm not some damn bimbo whose only reason to pick up a pensel is to paint her lips." I shrug. "But I left him. It was either that or punch him in the face and I didn't want to be known as the girl who punched some guy on the day of her debut so I just left. He came back up to me when we were closing up. The whole thing was a success by the way; I sold seven paintings out of eleven which is pretty big for a newbie. Anyway, he wanted to buy me a drink as a way of apologizing but I didn't cave until after the fifth time he came knocking on my studio. I figured it would stop him from bothering me so much. We went out for coffee." I smile as I think of the way he made me laugh. "He was a good guy. Appearently he'd persumed the paintings had been drawn by someone with more experience. We went out a couple of times but I..." I trail off. "It didn't work out," I say finally and look up.  
>"What?" Eve asks. "Why? He wasn't hot?"<br>I laugh. "Oh, he was hot," I say, remembering the seagreen eyes and the way he looked when he was focused on something; an underlip between his teeth, green eyes blazing, dark hair going into all different directions but in the most charming way.  
>"Then why, you cow?"<br>I smile at her and shrug. She knows why. Everyone in this room does. Including the very reason to why. I was planning on coming back. On being with him.  
>"Oh," Eve says, finally getting it.<br>I nod, looking at the table. "Yeah."  
>Suddenly, there's a sound from Shane's side of the table and I turn to look at him. He looks furious and I know it's me he's furious with. "Nice. Real nice, Haze." He walks around the table and pushes the door open. It closes with a bang.<br>Haze.

"_Haze?" I asked him over my shoulder.  
>His fingers traced up and down my waist and he pulled the comforter around us tighter. "Don't you think it's fitting?"<br>I chuckled. "Fitting?"  
>He kissed the back of my neck. "You have me in a haze. Whenever, I'm with you. I couldn't care less about anything. Eve might scream bloody murder right now and I seriously don't think I'd care."<br>I laughed. "Because she would be screaming over Ben & Jerry's Choclate Fudge Brownie or because Micheal would undoubtly come to her rescue?"  
>He turned me over and raised himself on his arms on top of me. "Because no matter how important something would be for me; in comparison to you, it's nothing.<em>

I'm up and out of the door before anyone has time to draw another breath. "Shane," I call as I see him walking up the stairs and I follow him. He doens't turn around, doesn't respond in any way. "Shane!" I call again, following him down the hallway.  
>I'm just about to follow him into his bedroom when he closes the door in my face. I'm on the verge of opening it when I pull my hand back. He's not mine, anymore. I have to <em>knock<em> now. So I knock. "Shane?" I say.  
>When he doesn't answer, I knock again. Nothing.<br>_Fuck it.  
><em>  
>I open the door and find him in the process of taking off his shirt. He whips around to look at me and in a hurried motion pulls the shirt down. I supress the urge to roll my eyes; it's not like I haven't seen it all before. Although, the extre defined muscles are a very welcome surprise."What do you want?" He asks.<br>"What upset you so much, it had you throwing a tantrum like a little fourteen year old girl?" I ask him. It's not what I want to say. Not what I want to do. I want to walk up to him and slide my hands underneath his shirt; feel the heat of his skin against my fingertips. I want him to wrap me in his arms and never let go.  
>His eyebrows rise in surprise before anger pulls them back down. He heads towards me and places a fingertip right on my chest. "You have <em>no<em> _right_. You have no right to come into my room without my permission, you have no right to speak like you miss me in front of my girl and our friends, you have no right to come waltzing in here like nothing happened and fucking kiss me like _nothing happened_ – not when _you left me_." He drops his finger and takes a step back. "You _left_ me, Haze."  
>It feels like the tears will fall down at any given second and I scramble for my only option before it's too late; I turn all the hurt into anger. "It didn't take you long to find a substitute, though, did it? She's very cute, Claire."<br>He shakes his head at me. "Don't be bitter. It doesn't suit you."  
>"Fuck off, Shane. I'm not bitter. I'm surprised. I'm shocked. I'm <em>hurt<em>. But I'm not bitter," I tell him.  
>When he doesn't say anything, I drop my eyes to the rug; his lack of words make my tears spring free. "Why didn't you wait?" I whisper.<br>"You just left, Hazel! I woke up and you weren't there! You didn't tell me where you were going; the only thing I had to go on was you telling me that you had been accepted into some art school in California that you applied to just for the sake of applying. I didn't think you'd be back. Still, I waited a whole year and you didn't show up. I had nothing to tell me you were coming back to me and then..." he trails off.

I look up, not caring if he sees my tears. "And then you met Claire."  
>He exhales. "I met Claire and she was so good. She made me forget. Everything. You, dad, mom, Alyssa."<br>I shake my head at him. "Of course I would come back to you. I love you," I pause. "How could you ever doubt that, Shane?" I whisper, too afraid to speak louder in case my voice breaks. "I told you that night; the before I left. I told you I loved you and that I–"  
>"Always would," he continues, breaking me off. "It was a bit hard for me to belive that when I didn't find you in my bed the day after. Or, the week after. The month after. The whole year. It's been three years, Hazel. I wasn't about to give up my life because you were gone."<br>I dry my tears and stare back at him. "I did."  
>He smiles. It's sad and my heart breaks all over again. "No, you didn't. You lived your life and reached you dreams. You left me in this hellhole and you didn't come back."<br>"I'm here now," I offer, weakly. Some part of me figures Shane would have made a great lawyer.  
>"You're too late, Haze. I'm with Claire," Shane says.<br>"Do you love her?" I ask. I don't know why. Maybe, just to plunge the knife deeper into me; to make me suffer for leaving him, make me realize there is no way I could regain him. Make him mine again. A part of me still hopes he say no. Then, there are no limits to what I would to to get him back.  
>"Yes."<p>

It astounds me how one short word can have such an effect on me. How it could bring everything around me crashing down like this.  
>"Fuck you," I say. I know it's childish. I know I should shut up. But I'm so angry he has this effect on me. That I'm broken and he's with a new girl. "I went there to follow my dreams. I am nothing here. <em>Nothing!<em> I wanted to come back and be someone I could be proud of. Someone _you_ could be proud of. And I sacrificed three years with you in order to do that. You have no idea how hard it was to leave you; how many times I wanted to give up and come back. But I kept going because I wanted to come back having gained something in return for all the pain I was going through. I didn't want to come back and have you look at me like a failure; I wanted you to look up to me, I wanted you to smile every time you introduced me as you girlfriend."  
>"I <em>was<em> proud of you, Haze. You're a good artist. You always have been. I didn't expect you to reach your full potential here because nobody does. Just look at Micheal. He's been playing that guitar, for how long? All he got was one chance; one chance to go out of here and have a taste of the person he could be and he was ripped away from it just like that," he pauses. "And don't give me that bullshit, Hazel. You didn't do this for me. You did it for _you_. If there was anything you could've done for me, it would have been to stay. You don't know..." he takes a deep breath, almost as if steadying himself. "You don't know what it did to me." He eyes turn hard. "Everybody leaves me, Hazel. Every single one. But I never thought you would. God..." he closes his eyes, swallos. "I never thought you'd leave."  
>He breaks me, over and over again. Because I know losing control is not something Shane does easily. He's always been my brick; always been the one I could count on to be steady when it felt like I was falling apart. To see him unravel this way, it's impossible for me to think that my disappearence didn't affect him. "I'm sorry," I cry. "I'm so, so, sorry. You don't know how much I regret it. I've spent the last three years regretting it. I just thought, that when I came here, when everything was over, that it would be worth it." I take a step forward but that's as far as I'm willing to go, but God, all I want is to feel his arms around me. "But it's not, and I don't know what to hold on to," I look up at him. "It feels like I'm falling and I have no one to catch me. I have no one, Shane." The last comes out as a whisper but I know he hears it because the next second he has me wrapped up in his arms and it feels so good. He tightens his arms around me and it feels like he's squeezing the wound in my chest together.<p>

But I can't seem to stop crying. All these years of lonliness and hurt that I kept pushing away because I kept comforting myself with that I was coming back to be with him and Eve and Micheal and everything would return to normal – it all comes back to me now, and three years worth of the feeling of _nothing_ hits me hard; it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees.  
>I cling to his shirt for dear life, as if fearing that I will drown if I let go of him. I want to tell him how sorry I am, how much I love him but I<em> can't<em>.  
>Shane kisses my head and strokes a hand over my hair and for some reason, that makes me cry even harder but I don't want him to stop. If he wasn't with someone else, I would have pulled him to his bed and made him distract me from the pain that is tearing me apart. But I can't. It breaks me, but I can't.<br>Some time passes, and my sobs grow less violent. I try to make them even less violent by breathing in through my nose and exhaling through my mouth.  
>"I'm sorry," I whisper but I'm not ready to let go. "For everything, not just for getting snot on your fab shirt."<br>He chuckles quietly which makes me smile. "Fab?"  
>I pull back a little, just so I can look at him. "Are you honestly going to tease me about that? And didn't I always tell you that sweatshirts suit you?"<br>Shane smiles. "Yeah."  
>"And you know I'm not the sweatshirt type," I tell him.<br>"Right."  
>"But I'm always right."<br>He chuckles. "True."

I smile at him. "I love you," I tell him after our smiles have faded away. "So much, it's tearing at me." I draw a deep, shaky breath. "And I'm sorry. More than you can ever know." I rise to my tiptoes, giving him plenty of space to back away but instead I find him looking down at my lips. And I press my mouth to his. It's nothing, really. Just a soft press of lips against each other. I pull back before I give in to the temptation to kiss him more properely.  
>I let go of his shirt and that moment feels so significant to me. Like it's not only his shirt I'm letting go of but like it's <em>him<em>. Something tells me he comes to the same realization.  
>I take a step back and look at him. "Damn, that's a good shirt on you. Granted, you have bulked up."<br>He smiles, just a little and wipes at his eyes. I refuse to believe it's because he cried; that would send _me_ crying again, and I can't go through that despair. Not one more time.  
>"I spent some time in the ring, a couple of months ago," he says.<br>"Full-time Slacker Shane, spent some time in the ring?" I ask him. "Do enlighten me."  
>He chuckles. "It's complicated."<br>I smile at him. I walk around, flop down onto his bed and cross my legs at the ankles. "I have all night."


	2. Chapter 2

**I was thinking of adding more too it before uploading but that would have taken at least another day.**

_**Enjoy, **_

I laugh out loud, the tears I shed and the despairing pain I felt long forgotten. Shane has always had that effect on me. "Seriously? A vamprie?"  
>He shakes his head, as though not believing it himself. "Not one of my finest moments."<br>"Was she hot?" I ask him.  
>He smiles. "Yeah. But still not really my thing."<br>"Because she lacks pulse?" I ask him.

"Lacked. Past tense," he says, indicating that she's ashed up somewhere. "And yeah, pretty much."  
>"You're lame," I tell him. "They're chicks. Hot chicks. Let's say she's all long legs, big boobs, blue eyes and you're first impression of her is man, she's hot and it's all you can do not to widen your eyes at her and drop your jaw to the floor. She heads straight for you, kisses you and thrusts her hands down your pants. Are you honestly telling me you would push her away when you realize she's way too cold to be human?"<br>"Yes," he says, without hesitation. "I like my girls warm. And tan."  
>I laugh. "Sorry to say that I can't put myself in your shoes."<br>Shane grins. "Obviously. I'm just too awesome."  
>"Yeah, right. You're lame. I'd totally do a hot guy if he came on to me and I was in the mood; pulse or no pulse," I tell him, shrugging.<br>His smile freezes, although he tries to cover up his reaction.  
>I raise my eyebrows at him. "What?"<p>

"Nothing," he says and gets up from the floor. "Maybe we should go down. I don't want Claire to get the wrong idea."  
>I get up and stand in front of him. "Does it bother you?" I ask, quietly as I look at him.<br>"Bother me?" He asks, avoiding my gaze.  
>I gave him A Look. "Don't play stupid, Shane. I saw your face."<br>He exhales and looks at me. "It's none of my business but..." he trails off, shakes his head and walks past me. "Forget it. I'm going down." He turns around after he's opened the door. "You coming?"  
>I look at him for a while and then I walk past him. "Yeah. Sure."<br>I jog down the stairs and into the room finding Micheal playing on his guitar while Eve flips through a magazine and Claire's eyes tracing the lines on her notebook. She looks up when she hears me approach and her eyes snap up to look at Shane, behind me.  
>I feel something like respect for her for not pounding on Shane's door and demanding me to get the fuck our of her boyfriend's bedroom. She has all the right to, and I sure as hell aint going to say I wouldn't have done it.<p>

"Hey, babe," Shane says and goes to sit beside her.  
>My respect vanishes.<br>She smiles at him and he pecks her on the mouth and I turn around.  
>Too much, too soon.<br>I go and sit down on the couch, lean my head backwards and listen as Micheal starts to play another song. I recognize the song and almost smile. I didn't think he listened to Coldplay so much; but then again she it's a pretty hard band not to listen to. "_When she was just a girl, she expected the world, but it flew away from her reach so she ran away in her sleep and dreamt of para, para, paradise, para, para, paradise, para, para, paradise everytime she closed her eyes,_" I sing.  
>And during the entire song, Micheal never falters. Surprise doesn't make him lose his hold on the strings he's always played so skillfully.<br>This used to happen all the time before I took off. We would all sit in the livingroom and Micheal would play something and sometimes I would sing along. He sometimes purposefully played a song he knew I could by heart and I'd know that he was asking me to sing along with the fine tunes from his guitar. That's one of the few things Micheal and I had in common. Our utter love and devotion for music. We always went to the CD store together and whenever I discovered an indie band, he was the first I'd be pounding down the stairs to tell.

By the time the song comes to an end, I'm sitting straight up, and my eyes are shut and it takes everything in me not to cry.  
>But the utter silence makes it so hard on me. When the door rings, I shoot straight up. "I'll get it," I say, my voice breaking, but I choose to ignore it and hope that the others are too. I run to the door, look through the peep eye and open the door.<br>"Hello," the nice post man says and hands me two packages. A smaller one, and another much bigger that Micheal comes to help me with.  
>"Thank you," I tell him. "Where's the third object?"<br>He points behind him and I smile when I see it. Man, it's hot.  
>"Thank you so much," I say as I sign the form. He tips his hat and walks away.<br>"What's this?" He asks when I close the door.  
>I smile at him; too reluctant to full on grin. "Let's find out."<br>"Eve, sweetie?" I give the small package to her. "I hope you like it." I turn to look at Micheal. "Open it. It's for you."  
>He widens his blue eyes at me and goes to sit before he opens it. He reaches a hand into the package and takes out a guitar case in black leather with platinum clasps and his initials on its belly.<br>M.G.

He looks down at it with wide eyes as he strokes a hand over its surface. He unclaps it and looks at the blue velvet.  
>"I had it special designed; I know your favorite color is dark blue but I also knew you would have appreciated if it wasn't conspicuous so I made the outside black leather," I explain. "And your damn lucky I chose to make the clasps in platinum. I was really close to choosing silver."<br>"Man..." he trails off. "It's perfect. Really." He looks up, his eyes shining, the 100 watt smile making my heart beat faster. I try not to sigh. What a hottie. "Thank you, Hazel," he looks back down at the case. "You really didn't have to."  
>I smile at him. "I'm glad you like it. I actually wanted to buy you a guitar at first, but then I figured you'd rather jump off a bridge than switch."<br>Micheal laughs. "This is perfect," he says and stands up. I stand up along with him and hug him when he approaches me. "Thank you. This made my entire month."  
>I draw back and narrow my eyes at him. "I thought my arrival did that."<br>He grins. "Well, that too. But not quite like this."

"Whatever, Angel. Glad you like it," I smile at him and go sit beside Eve as he takes to admiring his new guitar case. "Come on, crazy. Open it."  
>Eve grins at me and tears the package open. It's also a case, this one smaller however and actually containing something. "Come on, come on, open it!" I tell her.<br>She does and her eyes go completely wide. "Are those chopsticks?" She asks.  
>"Yes. Well, kinda. You put it in your hair, you don't eat with it. They're silver, with real diamonds embedded in them, there at the top. I had it darkened though since you don't do shiny and bling bling. Thought it'd look more... you," I tell her, scanning her face for any reaction that might suggest she's happy with what I got her.<br>Then she looks at me, grinning and throws her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't believe you got me this! Diamonds! Real diamonds?" She draws back and looks at the chopsticks once more, eyeing the glitttering stones at the top of them. "I can't believe you got me these, Drew," she repeats. "How can I ever repay you?"  
>I laugh. "Put them on."<br>She grins. "Help me?"

Her hair is already out, so I simply twirl it around itself and then into a bun on the top of her head. I fasten the chopsticks so that it looks like an X.  
>"Go look," I tell her.<br>She obeys, running across the living room and pounding up the stairs. "We have _got_ to get a mirror down there!" She yells from upstairs. After a while she pounds down the stairs. "They're beautiful, Hazel baby. Thank you."  
>I smile at her. "My pleasure." Then I turn to look at Shane. "I want to see your face when you see what I got you. It's something you've always wanted."<br>"My very own stripper?" Shane asks.  
>I laugh and Claire slaps his arm.<br>"A joke! It's a joke!" It's not. Not really. He turns to look at me. "A fancy rifle that shoots wooden stakes filled with silver nitrate and water that explode at impact?"  
>I laugh out loud. "No!" My God. "Damn, Shane." He grins at me. "It's standing outside, though."<br>I stand up and back away from the living room. "You coming?" I ask them.  
>We go out to the yard and stand on the porch. "Where is it–" He breaks off. "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me."<br>I laugh at his reaction and hop off the porch. "Come on. You gotta take a closer look," I tell him as I approach the black, shiny Harley.  
>He runs past me and goes over to the Harley. His eyes rake over her and he puts his hands on the seat. "It's a Harley," he breathes. "God, where did you get this, Haze?"<p>

I roll my eyes at him. "I've lived in California. You can't go thirty feet without bumping into one these babies. It's an Electra. That's its original lacquer but I changed the decks, just to be on the safe side. And it's a Kerker exhaust system."  
>"What year?" He asks, his eyes on the Electra.<br>"1998. Duh. You can't do a Harley any other way," I tell him and go stand beside him. I bury my hands in my jeans pockets. "So what do you think?"  
>He tears his gaze away from what is soon to become the love of his life and looks down at me. A smile very slowly forms his lips. It does strange things to my stomach. "You know exactly what I think."<br>I smile and look away before I do something crazy, like jump his bones and do him right then and there on the vehicle that looks like it's been created for that very purpose. "Yeah, I do." I really do. He's always, always wanted a Harley, and I've always, always wanted to give him one.  
>"God, Haze..." he trails off before throwing a leg over her and straddling the seat.<br>I never thought she could look better but with Shane on her, leaning forward, his rough hands on the handlebar, dark eyes blazing with an intense sort of excitement... I take a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. "You wanna take her for a ride?"  
>"Hell yeah," he says.<p>

I give him the keys and he starts her up. He laughs when she roars to life. He's just about to take off when he looks back at me. "You wanna hop on?"  
>I smile at him. "How can you even ask me that, Collins? Of course I wanna hop on. But I don't know if girlfriend would be too happy to see you taking me on the first spin. Besides," my smile widens into a grin. "It's your first time. Maybe you should have some one-oh-one time before bringing in a third party into the equation." I wink at him.<br>He laughs out loud at the innuendo. "Right."  
>And then he's off.<br>"_Please,_ don't get fanged for it!" Eve shouts after him. It's probably a smart thing to say; people have gotten killed around here for less than a brand new Harley.  
>"What do you think?" I ask them as I trott up onto the porch, grinning.<br>"It's really nice. He's always wanted one," Claire says and smiles at me.  
>I return her smile. "Yeah, I know. I was this close to getting him a red one, but he would have probably killed me." Then I remember something. "By the way, I'm really sorry, I didn't get you anything. New addition and al; I didn't know you even lived here."<br>Claire's smile widens. "Don't worry about it."  
>"I'll make it up to you, though, somehow," I tell her as we walk into the house.<br>She doesn't say anything for a while. "No offense, but you don't even know me."  
>I grin at her. "If you've managed to make Shane Collins fall in love with you; <em>Eve Rosser <em>befriend you and Micheal... Well, no that doesn't really say anything. Micheal likes everybody." I throw a grin his way which he answers, before I turn to look at her. "I figure you can't be that bad."

There's a _whoop!_ from the living room as the front door closes with a bang. "Man!"  
>I walk out of the kitchen with a cup of tea in my hand and find Shane taking off his jacket. "Well?" I ask.<br>He grins at me, throwing his jacket on the couch. "I don't know what to tell you, Haze. It's a freaking dream come true." He grabs me in a hug and lifts me up, causing me too squeal with laughter.  
>"Tea, Shane! Hot tea!" I yell, as fiery drip drops land on my hand.<br>He puts me down, the grin still on his face. "Thank you. Thank you, Haze. She's beautiful."  
>I grin at him. "I'm glad you like her." I hold out my tea. "Do you want to warm those hands, by the way? They're freezing."<br>"Nah. I don't drink tea," he says dismissivley and goes to sit on the couch.  
>I raise an eyebrow. "Too cool?"<br>"You know it." He picks up the remote to his game console and holds it out to me. "You wanna play? Or still too chicken?"  
>"Pfft." I take the remote from him. "I'll prove how lame you really are."<br>I'm doing my victory dance five minutes later. "Still too cool, Collins?" I ask him.  
>Claire steps down the stairs with Eve trailing behind her. "What's up?" Claire asks.<br>I grin. "I just won." I look at him. "And you're supposed to be so good at this game. You talk the talk but you hardly deliver." I wink at him.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It was one round." Shane says. "Let's play another."  
>I put the controller down. "See, I'd love to stay and continue proving to you what a loser you are, but I have more important things to do. I need to shower, wash my hair, shave my legs–"<br>"Got it." Shane breaks me off. "You do that. I'll do this." He nods towards the TV screen where his zombie is trying to eat his way through a crowd.  
>"Probably a good idea. Practice makes perfect. Maybe you'll actually come close to winning me next time," I tell him, grinning.<br>Shane grins.


	3. Chapter 3

**Someone said that they wanted the upcoming chapters to be from Claire's or Shane's point of view but I hope you understand that will be very hard for me. I'm not the creator of these characters; I don't think I know them well enough to write anything from their pow.**  
><strong>Hell, I'm battling it right not; going back and forth whenever I feel a bit off about what Michael, Eve, Claire or Shane says. I do promise however that I will try to write a chapter out of Shane's pow. It'll be interesting to get a glimpse of what he's thinking.<strong>

_**Enjoy,**_

I gasp as he runs his fingers across my collarbone and wraps them around my neck. God, his touch feels so good.  
>I slip my hands underneath his shirt and hear him exhale into my ear.<br>"I'm sorry..." I murmur. "You know that, right?"  
>He draws back. It's not Shane. It's Nat. "Sorry for what?" He smiles at me.<br>"Nat?" I ask, bewildered. "I thought..."  
>He smirks. "I was Shane?" His face morphs into Shane's; his form growing wider. "This better?"<br>Suddenly, my eyes burst open and I breathe out. A dream. "Not good..." I breathe. I need to put a brake on all the thinking or I'll end up with a full on sex dream about Shane/Nat.  
>I wipe my hand over my chest and it comes up wet with sweat. The next five minutes are spent tossing and turning before finally giving up on sleep; might as well go down and get something cold to drink.<p>

I turn on the lights and try not to eye everything hanging on the walls or I'll never stop. Eve was gracious enough to give me her room and has now a legitimate reason to spend many nights in a row in Micheal's bedroom. She has a pretty nice room; if you're into being scared shitless right after you wake up.  
>I put on an oversize sweatshirt over my nightgown but I leave it unzipped and go out. I close the door silently and walk down the stairs with as little noise as possible, which considering how old this house is doesn't make much difference.<br>I'd gone to bed directly after my shower but didn't sleep until three hours later due to noise in Micheal's bedroom that just so happens to lie exactly next to Eve's. I think they were trying to be quiet but it really doesn't help that the walls are paper-thin.  
>I open the refrigerator, grab the peanut butter, a spoon and hoist myself onto the counter.<br>I stretch out my legs and put my feet on the counter in front of me and dig in. This will probably put more calories on me and eradicate the hour I spent in the gym the other day but whatever.  
>If you can't eat peanut butter with a spoon, what's left to live for?<br>I hum to myself as I remember Shane's reaction to the Harley. The way he smiled and how he drew me close to him when he came back in; or up in his room and how that feeling of rightness enveloped me the second he tightened his arms around me.  
>It's always been like this. Always, always, always. Whenever I had a bad day; he'd be there, and he'd open his arms for me.<p>

_I close the door with a bang and try not to scream my frustration.  
>"Fucking idiot," I growl.<br>I run up the stairs and after a second's hesitation I open the door to Shane's room.  
>"What the– Hazel? What's up?" Shane scrambles out of his bed. "Did something happen?" Presuming the worst, he looks me over. "Did someone hurt you?"<br>"No, Shane. No one hurt me. I'm about to hurt someone, though," I tell him, pacing the room.  
>"The critic?" He asks.<br>"Is a fucking asshole!" I scream, turning to look at him. "He flipped through the paintings; he didn't even look at them properly and then he goes 'Not good enough. Work harder. No one's gonna look twice at these if they don't have the little extra'. Can you understand how much I wanted to punch his teeth out? Then he turns around and_ fucking walks away_."  
>"What did you do?"<br>"I told him to stick it up his ass and left." I stop and put a hand to my forehead. "God... I worked really hard on these."  
>"Look, he's a douche bag. Don't give a shit about it. <em>I _think they're really good," Shane says.  
>I look up at him. "You do?"<br>He smiles at me. "I really do." He beckons me forward. "Come here, how about a nap?"  
>I return his smile but with all the adrenaline running in my veins, a nap is the last thing on my mind. I drop my cardigan to the floor and watch his eyes follow its journey before snapping up to look into mine. "If I crawl into that bed, I won't be taking a nap."<br>His smile widens and becomes a bit more... dangerous. "I was hoping you'd say that."_

I smile now, remembering the same feeling when I slipped in beneath the covers and he hugged me to his bare chest.  
>The door to the kitchen opens and my heart leaps before I realize that it's just Micheal.<br>"Hey," I say around the spoon in my mouth.  
>"Hey," he says, eyeing my legs.<br>"Wipe that look off your face, Glass. I have enough boys drooling over me as it is. I don't need an engaged one, too," I wink at him.  
>"It's hard not too stare when all you're wearing is... that." He waves at me and goes over to the fridge.<br>I look down at the short nightgown with the wide neckline and the short shorts. "This?" I ask. "This is chaste."  
>"Right," Micheal says as he takes out a sports bottle from the refrigerator.<br>"So, are you planning on keeping it down next time you and Eve get your freak on?" I ask him. "It's a bit hard trying to sleep when all I hear is Eve telling you to–" I pause when he stares at me. "What? I'm not bound by the room mate rule," I grin at him. "You can comment all you want next time I have sex."  
>"I wouldn't want to," he says and tips his sports bottle up. He wipes a hand over his mouth when he's taken down a couple of gulps. "It's impolite."<br>I roll my eyes. "Who do you think you're talking to? Micheal Glass?"  
>He fights a smile before giving in which only makes me laugh.<br>We sit in silence after that. Him drinking what I'm guessing to be blood – ew – and me, trying to lick every drop of peanut butter off the spoon.  
>"Bad dream?" Micheal asks.<br>"No." I grin. "Wet dream."  
>Micheal chokes on his blood and brings a fist to pound his chest.<br>I laugh. "Easy, there. It ended before we could get past foreplay."  
>"I really don't want to get into this," he says, when he's recovered.<br>I shrug and put the spoon in my mouth. "You asked."

He takes another swig. "About who?" He asks after a pause.  
>I give a surprised bark of laughter. "It wasn't about you, so don't hold your breath."<br>He stares at me. "That's not what I meant."  
>My smile ebbs away. "Yeah." I tilt my head backwards against the cupboards.<br>"I'm not going to say anything. It's between you and him but, if Eve had done to me what you did to Shane, I would have..." he trails off.  
>I don't answer. "I really thought it would help us," I tell him after a while. "Our relationship was headed downhill because I felt like such a failure everytime the critics rejected me. It really affected us, partly because I didn't have the strength or the will to not show how that made me feel." I shrug. "I thought going to art school would help me become better. Help me regain my self-esteem so that I wouldn't have to bitch and complain about it; so that our relationship could be like it was."<br>"You left for three years, Hazel."  
>I look at him. "I was planning on spending the rest of my life with him. What's three years compared to that?"<br>"Nothing. But he thought you'd left him for good. Still, he waited for a year." He shrugs. "I'm not gonna say he was a boy scout during it; there were many girls, but they came and went. Nothing serious."  
>"Until Claire."<p>

He looks sharply at me. "Are you really going to hold that against him?"  
>"I don't think I can," I say.<br>"Yeah, well. Neither do I."  
>"So much for not saying anything," I say after a while, smiling.<br>He doesn't answer. "You didn't see him then. I did. It's hard not to say anything at all when it felt like I was watching someone who is a brother to me unravel. Things got better when Claire came along. That's why I'm taking her side in this."  
>I shrug. "You should. Hell, I'm on Claire's side. I bet she's really good for him but..." I look at him. "If I so much as <em>sense<em> he still loves me... there will be no limits to what I would do to get him back."  
>Micheal opens the fridge and returns his bottle. "Good luck with that."<br>He heads for the door when I surprise myself by saying. "I'm not going to play dirty, though. I'm not going to, like, touch him inappropriately or anything."  
>He turns around with a smile on his lips. "I wasn't expecting you to."<br>I breathe out, just a little, so little it's a whisper of a sound. "Good."  
>He laughs and walks over to me. "What was that sound just now?"<br>I raise my eyebrows at him. "You heard–" I break off. "Right, vampire. How's that working out for you, by the way?"  
>He simply stares at me, with a smile on his pretty lips.<br>I roll my eyes. "Your opinion of me has always mattered. You know that."  
>He grins at me. "Me too. It doesn't bother you I'm a bloodsucking leech?"<br>I'm pretty sure sympathy is all over my face when I put my hands of his shoulders. "You're not a bloodsucking leech! Vamp or not, you're still Micheal. You're still Angel. And I love Angel." I shrug. "So I honestly couldn't care less."  
>He wraps his long fingers around my wrists. "That means a lot. Thanks."<br>I shake my head at him. "Why are you thanking me? Don't thank me. Knock me out and take the peanut butter away from me!"  
>He laughs out loud and grabs the peanut butter from where it's sitting right next to me. "It's good to have you back, Drew."<br>"It's good to be back, Glass," I grin at him.

* * *

><p>"We're going out tonight," I announce when I've entered the kitchen.<br>Shane is setting up the table, Eve's taking taco sauce out of the fridge and Claire is taking glasses out of the cabinet.  
>"What do you mean we're going out?" Eve asks as she closes the fridge.<br>"We're going out dancing," I look out the windows. "Where's Micheal?"  
>"Bloodbank," Eve answers. "And we're not going out dancing."<br>I look at her. "Yes, we are! It's new year's eve! We're totally going out dancing! You can wear the chopsticks I gave you."  
>"Is it just me or did that just sound wrong?" Shane asks.<br>Claire laughs and I can't help but smile. "We are _dancing_ into 2012. Come on, where's the spirit? I checked around; texted a few people and I know just the place."  
>Eve looks at Claire. "It wouldn't kill you to help me out," she says. "Just so we're clear."<br>Claire shrugs. "It's either that or spending new year's eve watching a really bad movie. She's got a point."  
>"Look, look! I've got a point!" I grin. "Shane, what about you?"<br>"I don't dance," he says and sits down. "When do we eat?"  
>"Oh come on, Shane. Please? I'll make Claire dance, I'll teach her some moves; and you can sit and watch," I say and press my palms together. "Please?"<br>He looks at me before turning to look at Claire. "Alright."  
>I pump my fist in the air. I know, <em>so<em> last century. I'm just that excited. "Come on Eve, it's three against one. What do you have against this anyway? We're going to have a good time!"  
>She glares at me. "I'm sorry but last time I went to a party, things didn't go very well."<br>"We're not going to a party; we're going to a nightclub, crazy," I say.  
>She pauses what she's about to say. "Oh. Okay, then."<br>I grin. "Great!"

* * *

><p>I turn around to inspect how my back looks in my outfit in the mirror. The dress I'm wearing is midnight blue sheath and it's all lace. Obviously, there's something underneath it so people can't see through. The sleeves are long and the skirt ends about two inches above my knees; but the most beautiful thing about it is that it's backless. Not to brag or anything but I do have a nice back.<br>I tie my hair at the nape of my neck in a loose knot and apply just enough red lipstick to make my lips look bee stung, not necessarily bright red. I put on mascara and then apply eyeliner to give me that classic, sleepy-eyed look.  
>And I'm done. I asses my look and turn around to inspect the back again. I never thought I'd get happy over seeing how pale I am, but there you go. The midnight blue clashes against the fairness of my skin and the result really is something.<br>I get out of the bathroom, finding Eve in a kimono trying to put on a pair of stiletto heels. It's a very, very short kimono she's wearing but a kimono nonetheless. The outfit is made even sexier with a pair of net pantyhose. I see her holding the chopsticks I got her in a hand. "Oh my God. You look gorgeous." She looks down at her clothes. "I'm gonna look like a slut standing next to you."

I laugh and turn around to show her just how much of my back is showing. To be exact, just short of my ass crack.  
>"Oh. Right." Eve laughs. "Could you help me with setting these in?" She holds out the chopsticks.<br>"Sure thing, pretty lady." I walk over as she straightens up and I realize she's a head taller than me. "I think you'll have to take the heels off, I can't do them if you're taller than me."  
>"But these took <em>forever<em> to get on. Can't you go put on yours?" She asks.  
>"Alright, give me a second."<br>I go into Eve's bedroom and find the nude high-heeled pumps I eventually settled on. It was a tie between them and a pair of red ones but that felt a bit too much.  
>I put them on and help Eve with her hair.<br>I'm just about done when I hear Claire get out of her room. We turn around and I honestly don't know what to expect. I find that whatever I would have expected would have been better than what she was wearing. A pleated skirt and a white top with a wide neckline; not deep, wide. Her feet are clad in a pair of flats.  
>"No," is the first thing that comes out of my mouth. "Oh no, you don't." I beckon her to my room and wide-eyed, she follows.<br>"What are you talking about?" She asks when Eve's entered the room and shut the door behind her.  
>"There is no way you're going to a night club dressed like a 14 year old school girl. I know Shane's into that school girl look but that's because he doesn't really know what he's missing," I tell her as I open my suitcase. "I'm curvier than you but there's something here that I think will look good on you."<br>I find the white sheath dress I'm looking for; it's not very long but it redeems itself with the long sleeves and decent neckline. "Alright. Take off your clothes."  
>She raises her eyebrows at me. "It'd be easier if you weren't watching so intently."<br>I smile. "Fine," I say and throw the dress at her.  
>She holds it out and I can see her already wide eyes grow wider. "No way."<br>"What?" I ask.

She looks at me. "No way I'm wearing this."  
>I smile at her. "Considering what you're wearing right now I don't think you have much say in this."<br>"Of course I have a say in this. I'd rather look like a 14 year old school girl than a–" she breaks off.  
>I narrow my eyes at her. "Than a what?"<br>She shakes her head, looking the dress over. "Nothing."  
>I sigh. "No one will think you're a slut, Claire. It's a white dress; white indicates innocence. It's probably the only color you could wear really shortly without looking like a hooker. Besides, you're going to be wearing a pair of pantyhose underneath. And a pair of white short shorts just in case."<br>She gives in and puts the dress on together with the white shorts, the pantyhose and somehow I manage to get her into the red suede pumps.  
>"How do I look?" She asks and turns to look at the mirror. "God, it's too short."<br>"Bitch, please," Eve says, rolling her eyes. "You look hot."  
>"Shane'll love it." I tell her.<br>She chuckles. "I need to see this in better light."  
>"No!" Eve and I chorse together. "No, we don't have time," I continue. "We gotta put some make-up on you too."<br>I sit her down; this time I make the red lipstick really red on her lips to match the pumps. Mascara, eyeliner, a bit of blush and she officially looks like a woman.  
>"There."<p>

I literally have to drag her out of the bedroom when she changes her mind about her outfit.  
>"Stop being such a baby. You look good, I swear you do. I'm not the kind of ex girlfriend who sabotages for the current girlfriend if that's what you're worried about, and if I were, Eve would hit me on the head," I say.<br>Eve nods. "I totally would."  
>Claire breathes out. "Okay. I know I'm going to break something tonight, though." She looks down at the shoes. "These are freaking suicide."<br>"They're sexy," Eve says. "Now, quit your bitching and let's go. I'd like to get there _before_ it's new year."  
>We descend the stairs and I have the satisfaction of seeing Micheal and Shane's eyes widen as they take us in.<br>"Is this a dream?" Shane murmurs to Micheal.  
>Micheal's eyes stray from my dress to Eve's. "I don't think so."<br>Shane nods. "Just checking." His eyes assess the way the fabric is stretched across my hips and waist before they slowly look into mine. I smile at him but he seems too far gone to answer it. Then his eyes go to Claire and they widen. "Claire?"  
>She waves awkwardly at him. "Hey."<p>

"_Shit_," he breathes and goes over to take her hand. "Damn, girl."  
>Claire laughs. "How do I look?" She gives him a little twirl and he swallows.<br>"I don't think I should answer that right now," he says, his gaze on her feet. "I've never seen you in heels before."  
>"I've never worn heels before," she responds.<br>"They look good on you. God, you've got nice legs," he exhales.  
>Claire blushes and takes his hand.<br>Beside them Micheal is murmuring something very low to Eve and it has her shuddering. Blech. Thank God, I'm not close enough to hear _that_ conversation. Shane and Claire's is very chaste in comparison. It never was when we were together, though.  
>"Alright, guys. As much as I just <em>love<em> being the third wheel, we need to get going," I announce.  
>"Right," Shane says and I can see him trying to tear his gaze away from Claire's body.<br>I suddenly feel a fierce anger for helping her change her outfit. I'm here to win this guy over, not make her chances bigger. But the anger is gone just as suddenly as it came to me. I'd told Micheal this morning that I wasn't going to play dirty; I want her chances to be as big as mine so that I'll know for sure that Shane loves me if he does end up picking me.  
>"Please, please, let's get going!" I say.<br>Micheal turns around to look at me. "You look beautiful, Hazel."  
>Shane looks up from Claire. "Yeah," he says, looking me over very slowly. I hold back a shudder. "You do, Haze."<br>I smile at them. "Thank you, my good men." I wipe the smile away. "Now, let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry this isn't a long chapter but I really need to study. Next chapter will be out of Claire's pov but if no one likes it, I warned you.**  
><strong>Also, I would LOVE if anyone could tell me whether I'm staying true to Caine's characters or not.<strong>

**Enjoy, **

We tumble into the car with Eve behind the wheel and Micheal sitting next to her, which leaves Shane squeezed between me and Claire. I like the feel of his thigh pressed up to mine.  
>They're having a hushed conversation, obviously not wanting to include me so I bring out my cell and open up the internet. Being the third wheel is a bit harder than I thought, I have to admit. But I do plan on making the best of it.<br>"So, thank you," I hear Shane say.  
>I turn around and find his face very close. He'd chosen to wear a pair of jeans, a v-necked tee and a leather jacket over it. I've been trying not to stare ever since I saw him.<br>I hear my heartbeat picking up its pace. "For what?"

"For Claire. She wouldn't wear this normally if her life depended on it," he says.  
>I laugh. "I didn't do this for you, Shane. You've warped her sense of style with your school girl fetish. I wanted her to genuinely look good."<br>He smiles. "You've always been very nice but I didn't expect this."  
>I shrug. "Yeah, well, she seems really nice too. I'm not going to treat a girl like that badly."<br>He stays quiet for a while before saying in a very low voice. "This is one of the reasons why I loved you. You're the kindest person I know."  
>My heart skips a beat before I realize he used the l-word in past tense and suddenly my heart feels very heavy. "Pfft. Hardly."<br>"You emptied you bank account and donated 800 bucks to UNICEF after we got a call from them," he notes.  
>I stare at him, anger boiling in my chest. "I can't believe you brought that up as an <em>example<em>. You didn't see the photos they sent me, Shane. I'm not gonna sit there like a fucking idiot and choose to ignore it when reality comes knocking on my door. I have a roof above my head, I have food in my fridge, I have clothes and shoes – what the hell do I need 800 dollars for when I can give it to children that have none of the above? That's not me being kind. That's me being human."  
>He eyes me for a while before I give in and look away. I came with the intention of having fun, not feeling bad.<br>And remembering that day makes me feel very, very bad. It was daytime; Eve was at work, Micheal was gone as usual and Shane was in the kitchen while I was flipping through one of Eve's magazines. The phone suddenly rings, and since Shane was cooking I didn't expect him to want to answer it so I walked into the kitchen.

"_Mmm, smells nice."  
>Shane turns around and looks at me. "Yeah?"<br>"Yeah," I say and head for the phone.  
>He dips the ladle in the chilli and comes over. "Here."<br>With my hand over the phone, I blow at it before taking it into my mouth.  
>He raises his eyebrows at me, his eyes a bit wide.<br>It needs a little bit of salt but I don't have to heart to tell him. I smile. "Perfect."  
>He returns my smile and kisses me; runs his tongue over my lip before murmuring. "Salt."<br>I laugh and hold up two fingers to measure less than an inch. "Just a teeny, tiny bit."  
>He grins at me before returning to the pot and I answer the phone. "Hello?"<br>"Hello. My name is Sandra Connor and I'm calling from the UNICEF headquarters in New York," a female voice says into my ear.  
>"Hi." I say, adopting a more professional tone. Shane makes a face at me but it's really not intentional, my voice really sometimes acts out of its own accordance."Is there anyone particular you'd like to speak with?" I ask.<em>

"_Yes, as a matter of fact. A Hazel Drew. Is she available?" She asks.  
>Why would she...? Oh, right. I'd donated a few times, my name was probably in there. "Yes, well. That's me."<br>"Good. I'm calling to inform you about the increase in death among children due to lack of clean water around the Horn of Africa. The temperature is known, clearly, to be very high in this area but it has gone up even more lately due to severe heatwave. We would like to know if you could lend us __a hand in helping the death rates sink."  
>"Of course," I tell her. "No problem. If you could send me a mail including your bank account number, I'd be happy to donate as much as I am able to."<br>"No problem at all. Thank you so much for your help," she says.  
>"No need to thank me. It's the least I can do," I say.<br>"You will receive this mail today; it will include more information about this problem I'm speaking of."_

"_Great. Thanks for the call. Have a good day," I tell her.  
>"You too."<br>I hang up and so does she.  
>"What was that all about?" Shane asks as he dries his hands on a paper towel.<br>"UNICEF. I'm donating some money. Kids are dying because of all the dirty water they're drinking; apparently it's gotten worse because of some heatwave," I say and exhale.  
>He comes to wrap an arm around my neck and kisses my hair. "You're a good person, Haze."<br>I look up at him. "I try."  
>He smiles and kisses me.<em>

Later that day when I opened my mail; true to her word there was a lot more information on the problem. There were some pictures too; a mother crying out her pain with her child in her arms. His limbs were so skinny I could have wrapped my fingers around them and they would still have been overlapping. A photo of children crouched down by a river their hands full of sandy water as they looked up into the lens of the camera. The look of utter joy on everyone's faces as a truck with 'UNICEF' written on it filled with water bottles stops in front of them.  
>Was I going to deny something so little as water and the chance of happiness to fellow human beings?<p>

I donated everything I had in my account and still it felt like I hadn't done enough. I wasn't trying to be goody-two shoes but it hurt inside me to know that the money I spent on designer clothes could keep two or three families alive for weeks.  
>Eve parks the car and we get out; some of that pain I felt that day still lingers in my chest and I'm hoping that the night will get better. It's not exactly off to a bright start but I sure as hell don't want to spend New Year's Eve crying over something I can't do anything about.<br>I set my mind on my current goal that feels unbelievably petty next to the problems I tried to solve that day. Winning Shane back.  
>I'd given Eve the directions to the club and she said she "had a vague idea of where it was". By the time we arrive, forty minutes had passed.<br>"Eve. Really?" I ask.

She throws her hands in the air. "I had a vague idea. Vague. Look it up, Drew."  
>I roll my eyes at her as I get close the door to the car. "That wasn't vague. That was a freaking tour. Guided by a demented person."<br>She narrows her eyes at me over the car. "Then why didn't you drive, oh Hazel the Wise?"  
>"You wouldn't let me!" I widen my eyes at her.<br>"That's right! _My_ hearse! Next time you diss my driving you'll be hitting the curb before you have time to say 'turn left'."  
>"No, see, if you hadn't told me you had a <em>vague<em> idea of where the club was; I would have told you to take left in the roundabout and we wouldn't have ended up _by the freaking border,_" I say.  
>She stares at me for a while, chewing the inside of her cheek. "Alright," she finally says, exparted. "I got nothin'."<br>My frown turns into a grin and I laugh out loud. It doesn't take her long to join in. She comes to wrap an arm around me. "I've missed this."  
>I kiss her cheek. "Me too."<p>

"Okay. Let's get going before someone calls group hug," Shane says.  
>Eve flips him the finger and he puts a hand to his heart and staggers back before giving her a withering look. And just like that my bad mood is flown away as I laugh out loud. So many things around me has changed but I could trust this group to stay the same.<br>Micheal wraps an arm around Eve but she lets go of me and pulls him between us. He laughs as we hook our arms around his. "Best girlfriend ever," he says.  
>She grins at him and he dips down to kiss her.<br>Obviously, she does this because she knows I have no interest in Micheal at all. I used to but then again who hasn't had a crush on Micheal Glass? He's tall, blond, blue-eyed and looks almost angelic with his high cheekbones and defined jaw. And he plays the guitar.  
>Quoting a facebook group; excuse me while I take my clothes off.<br>But eventually the crush faded just like my crushes on Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie and I started seeing him like a really good friend and that was that.  
>But hell, I'm not blind. Saying that Micheal's hot is like saying the sun is yellow. It's a fact not even up for discussion.<p>

Shane and Claire are walking ahead of us, their hands entwined so I choose to initiate a conversation with a question I'd like a boy's opinion on. "So, Megan Fox or Scarlett Johansson?"  
>Micheal exhales. "Impossible. That's an impossible question."<br>Eve however goes. "Monica."  
>"Monica?" I ask her, frowning. "<em>Megan<em>. Megan Fox."  
>"No," she shakes her head and points straight ahead. "Monica Morell."<br>I widen my eyes at her before my eyes follow the direction of her finger and it takes everything in me not to scream out my anger and frustration as I see her clad in a short, red dress, a silver necklace around her throat, her long, tan legs bare and her feet in a pair of silver stiletto heels. She whips her dark hair back with a flick of her wrist. Some detached part of my brain scans her outfit and the conclusion is a simple word; slut.  
>But the part of my brain that is causing flames to lick up my chest tells me that she's doing good. In spite of what she's done.<br>Monica turns around from the big guy she's hooked her claws in. As if feeling my eyes upon her, she looks directly at me and her eyes widen. In fear, shock or surprise, I don't know.

I let go of Micheal and pass Shane and Claire.  
>"What's going–" Shane breaks off. "Oh, crap."<br>I'm too far gone to acknowledge it, though, all I remember is my last words to her.  
><em>"Next time I see you I will <em>burn_ you... just like you burned Alyssa."_  
>She sees me coming and goes out of the line, her held held up high. All it does is fuels my anger.<br>"You fucking whore," I say. "I'm surprised no one warned you that I was in town. I guess they want you as dead as I do. Of course, that's no surprise."  
>She opens her red lips to say something but under my stare she shuts her mouth. "What do you want?"<br>"Many things. Your head," I smile sweetly at her. "Detached." I tick that off my finger. "Your skin. Peeled off. But most of all? I want you burnt to a crisp. I want to shut you inside a house and have you wake up to flames licking up your pretty legs."  
>She stares at me, and I see a fine tremor shake her. "You're psychotic."<br>I give a bark of laughter. "Spoken by_ Monica Morell_. Murderer of a twelve year old girl." I take a step closer and watch in dark satisfaction as she takes one back. "You wanna talk _psychosis_, pyro?"  
>She flinches.<p>

"Haze. Come on. Leave her." I feel hands on my shoulders.  
>I turn around and find Shane behind me. He takes a step back when he looks at me but I feel my anger falter. "Shane?" I ask. "What are you doing?"<br>He flinches when he sees my gaze. "She's really not worth it."  
>I widen my eyes at him. "She killed Lyss. She doesn't deserve to be <em>alive<em>."  
>He looks at me for a while, studies me. Then he takes a step back and I turn around.<br>"Collins! What the hell?" Monica screams.  
>"Shut the hell up, Monica," he says.<br>I smile at her. "You petty, petty girl. He's not going to save you."  
>"Please, stop," she whispers, looking at me.<br>"Excuse me, I didn't hear that." I curl a hand around my ear.  
>"Please, stop," Monica says, louder.<br>I fold my arms across my chest. "I'd kill you right now, I swear to God, Monica. But there are too many witnesses. If you have any sense of self-preservation you make sure there always is." I pause. "But then again, who's to say I won't come knocking on your door one of these days."  
>"You can't do that," she says. "You can't kill me now. Not anymore."<br>I raise my eyebrows at her. "Oh? Why not?"  
>She tilts her nose up a little bit. I want to break it. "My brother's the mayor."<br>Yeah. I know.  
>I take a step closer to her and tilt my head to the side. "My guardian is <em>Amelie<em>." I smirk at her. "I win. Again."  
>She's forgotten how strong my connection and relationship to the Founder is and her face falls.<p>

I walk past her but just as I am about to take the step that puts me behind her, I pitch my voice low and say into her ear. "You know what I'll whisper as you're drawing that last breath, as you're scrambling for clean air to draw into your lungs?" I smile. "Ding dong the bitch is dead."  
>I walk past her and head directly for the bodyguard standing by the entrance.<br>I hear the others slowly catch up to me as the bodyguard refuses to let me in. "You have to go all the way back in the line."  
>"We're late as it is," I tell him. "Let me in, or you'll have some serious problem to deal with. Did I say it'd be with the Founder?"<br>He pulls his shoulders back and puts a hand over the other. Standard Bodyguard Pose. "No can do."  
>I stare at him and he looks down once, twice before caving in. "There is nothing I can do. Go to the back of the line or I'll have to escort you to your car."<br>I sigh and turn around. I lift my hair and let him see the tattoo I have on the back of my neck. I turn to look at him over my shoulder. "Is that enough to convince you that Amelie will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me?" I turn around and let my hair fall back down. "So?"

Not every person has the Founder's symbol tattooed on her neck. Only Hazel Drew. The direct descendant of Amelie.  
>The bodyguard swallows once as he steps out of my way. "It's an honor to have you with us, Miss Drew."<br>I smile at him. "Better. Now you won't mind letting my friends come in, right?"  
>"Not at all." He nods at them. "Welcome."<br>We walk in and are enveloped with the scent of smoke, sweat and spilled alcohol. The music is blazing all around us and multicolored lights flick on and off.  
>I let go of all the tension inside me; all the anger and sorrow.<br>"Let's dance."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it took me such a while. Been enjoying my summer.**  
><strong>Just <span>one question<span>; many are telling me that they don't really like Hazel. I'm really curious about why.  
>Please, spare me a few seconds and tell me?<strong>

**_Enjoy,_**

Claire watches in amusement as Shane glares at a guy and what seems to be his girlfriend; they're off the couch in a matter of seconds.  
>"Try not to punch anyone tonight, okay?" Micheal says, sitting down.<br>Shane grins, sits down and spreads his legs. "No promises." His eyes survey the club. "This place is crawling with losers." He looks at Claire, smiles and pats his leg. "Saved you a seat, jailbait."  
>She smiles at him but sits beside him instead. "I really don't trust you in these clothes."<br>He grins. "You really shouldn't."  
>"Where the hell did Hazel run off to?" Eve asks, crossing a leg over the other.<br>"I wouldn't bother her now if I were you," Micheal says. It's a wonder Claire can even hear them over the pounding music. It's the first time she's ever been to a nightclub. It lives up to her expectations.  
>"Why was she so angry out there? She was like Monica times three," she whispers to Shane.<p>

He sighs. "She was Alyssa's best friend." He pauses. "She heard her scream."  
>Claire widens her eyes at him but remains speechless. It's not much you can say to that.<br>You'd never think Hazel carries something like that inside her. She seems so carefree, and wild, always laughing. Instead Claire asks, "Is that how you met?"  
>He nods. "Yeah." He turns to look at her and smiles a bit. "We'll talk about this later, okay?"<br>She's about to nod when Eve yells over the music. "Are we going to sit here like a bunch of losers or actually, I don't know, dance?"  
>"Count me out," Shane says.<br>Eve rolls her eyes at him. "No one asked _you_, lame-o." She looks at Micheal. "Please?"  
>Micheal looks pained and I laugh. "Eve. I can't dance."<br>She presses her palms together. "Please, please, Micheal?" She grins at him. "I'll drop it like it's hot. And in this dress it's bound to get interesting."  
>Micheal exhales. "Alright."<p>

Three seconds later and they're gone. Claire turns to look at Shane. "Good thing you don't dance."  
>He looks at her. "That's a first. Why?"<br>"I don't either. And even if I did. I can't in _this_ dress," she sighs. "I can't believe I let her talk me into this."  
>Shane laughs. "She's very persuasive. But you look good." She feels his eyes on her. "You look really good."<br>Claire looks up to meet his eyes. "You need to stop doing that."  
>His eyes widen in feigned innocence. "Do what?" He dips his head low and whispers in her ear. "There's a lot of illegitimate, shameful sex going on in the bathroom stalls." He pulls back and grins at her. "Thought you should know."<br>A blush coats her cheeks. "You're insane."  
>Shane shrugs and stands up. "I'm going to get drinks. Why don't you come with me?"<br>"What about our seats?" She asks.  
>He shrugs. "We'll get them back."<br>Claire smiles. "Fine."

The bar is crowded to say the least. A girl is trying to climb on top of the bar but one of the bartenders has his hands on her shoulders to set her down. He's telling her something but Claire can't hear it over the music. She decides that she doesn't like clubs. It's filled with drunk people that smell of alcohol and sweat. The music is too loud causing a headache to start building up. She can't wait to get a shower and crawl into bed with nothing but silence to bid her good night.  
>Shane seems slightly more at home, though. A blond girl she has never seen before brushes up next to him and eyes him before turning around, rising to her tiptoes and whispering something into his ear while pressing her breasts up against his arm.<br>Shane turns his head and gives her a look. Claire can't see it since she's standing on the other side but from the way the girl widens her eyes and scurries off, she guesses it couldn't be that pleasant. Delicious warmth floods her chest as if her heart has expanded and she smiles.

"What did she tell you?" Claire asks Shane.  
>He grins at her while trying to wave one of the bartenders over. "Nothing for underage ears. Sorry, Claire Bear."<br>Claire glares at him. "Hey!"  
>Shane shrugs. "It's nothing you want to hear anyway."<br>She narrows her eyes at him. "Try me."  
>He drops his hand. "Fine. She said she gives mean head and directed me to one of the bathroom stalls."<br>"Head?" Claire asks.  
>Shane raises his eyebrows at her.<br>Her jaw drops when she realizes what it means. "Seriously?"  
>He shrugs. "You asked."<p>

"Do you always get these kind of questions?" She finds herself asking after a brief pause.  
>A smile slowly forms his lips. "Jealous?"<br>Claire turns around and puts her arms on the bar. "No."  
>Shane chuckles and drops down to kiss her earlobe. She shivers. "I wouldn't want anyone doing anything sexy to me in a bathroom stall other than you, beautiful," he murmurs.<br>Heat floods her face and she's on the verge of giggling. "Shut up, Shane."  
>He laughs and tips her chin up and around. He kisses her, softly and when he draws back there's nothing she can do but smile at him. When is he going to stop turning her insides to mush just from one simple, chaste kiss?<p>

Claire exhales and turns around as Shane returns to trying to catch a bartender's attention. She scans the dancing crowd for any familiar faces and just as she's about to give up the crowd dispatches and just to the right she finds herself looking at Hazel. She's not alone. There is a guy in front of her; he doesn't seem to be older than twenty with wide shoulders and a height over six feet. He's blonde, but that's all Claire can see in the almost-darkness. Hazel's neat bun seems to have loosened and her black hair tumbles down around her shoulders and down her back in wide curls. Claire finds herself studying the way they're dancing. Hazel's legs are spread with one of the blond's guy's leg in between them and she's actually – Claire blushes – grinding against it. There's a look of utter sensuality on her face; her lips are parted and her eyes are half closed.  
>She sees her hands buried in his blond hair but his hands can't seem to stop moving over her body. One of his hands finally settle on the patch of thigh her dress has revealed by hiking up.<br>It's almost like... they're having sex. Her blush intensifies.

Claire sees him murmur something in Hazel's ear and she tips her head back, laughing out loud. She looks at him, turns around and places his hands on her hips and tips her head back against his chest, closes her eyes, molds her hips against his. His reaction seems almost violent.  
>Claire's not sure she can keep watching so she turns around and bumps into someone. She looks up, about to apologize when he sees that it's Shane. He has two drinks in his hands but his eyes aren't on her. They're on something behind her. She turns around and realizes that he's seeing what she just turned away from.<br>She opens her mouth to say something when she sees him wearing his I'm-about-to-punch-someone face. His jaw is set, his eyes are hard and the line of this shoulders rigid. "What the hell is he doing?" He grounds.  
>Claire frowns at him silent for a while until he starts moving. "Shane," she says, putting a hand on his chest to stop him. "It's not like she isn't in on it."<br>His eyes soften just a bit as he looks at Hazel and the way it does feels like a punch to her gut. What's wrong with him? "Right. Let's go back."  
>"I got you a Coke," he says after having chased away a group who'd taken their seats. He sits down, placing the drinks on the round table in front of them and she follows suit; one of the drinks is tall and is obviously a Coke, while the other one is round, short and wide with golden liquid inside it.<br>"Good," Claire smiles but he doesn't return it, partly because he isn't even looking at her.  
>"This was a bad idea," he mutters after a while.<br>No shit.

Claire looks at him. "Maybe we should dance?" It's the last thing she wants to say to him, but the options are two; demand that they go home because Shane got upset over seeing Hazel dancing with another guy or stay, dance, enjoy ourselves and have Shane forget about seeing Hazel dancing with another guy.  
>Shane looks at her for a while before exhaling; his annoyance seems to disappear with that breath and he smiles at her. "No... but we <em>can<em> finish these drinks. It's too bad I can't get you drunk, jailbait."

She laughs. "Why would you want to get me drunk?"  
>He leans forward, getting inside her personal space; the space she's only ever allowed Shane into. "Well, would you consent to illegitimate, shameful sex in one of the bathroom stalls without any alcohol clouding your judgement?"<p>

Claire pulls away from him, laughing. "What's with you tonight? Usually, you're never this hands on."  
>Shane leans even closer and places a kiss right where her neck curves into her shoulder and she shudders. "Usually, you never wear this dress." He pulls away and looks at the heels she's wearing. "Or those shoes. Did I mention how sexy your legs are?"<p>

"A few times," Claire answers, smiling.  
>"Not enough," he kisses her. Something in her demands that she immediately pulls away; everybody's probably looking at them. But that's before she remembers that they're in a nightclub and that there's illegitimate, shameful sex going on in the bathroom stalls which is a lot worse, so instead she wraps her arms around Shane's neck to bring him closer.<br>He groans and wraps his arms around her waist and shifts her over so that she's sitting on his lap. And then it's like everything just melts away; the pounding music, the scent of alcohol and sweat, the laughter and constant chattering. Instead all she can hear is his heart beating in time with hers, the way he smells and the way he tastes and she just melts into him. Suddenly she's wishing they were at home, under the covers of her bed, skin to skin and she curses herself for agreeing to come spend her night _here_.

"Sorry to disturb you and all but are these yours?"  
>At the sound of Hazel's voice, Claire pulls away from Shane and he gives a sound of protest and looks up at Hazel. "Worst timing ever," he says. His words are playful, but there's an edge to them.<br>Claire looks up at Hazel as she slides off Shane's lap and watches as she takes Shane's drink and gulps down about half of it. Her hair is tangled and her dress is hiked up her legs; she looks wild, and sexy and vivacious and there's a shine to her dark eyes, almost as if they're glowing as she puts his drink down. "Scotch and soda? Really?" Hazel asks, scrunching her face up and putting down his drink. "'Cause everybody just, you know, needs to know what a manly man you are?"

Shane leans back in his seat, a grin over his face but something in the set of his shoulders tells Claire he's a second away from blowing. "I think that goes without saying."  
>Hazel raises an eyebrow at him. "How you have to prove yourself because your confidence in your masculinity is so low?"<br>"How I'm a manly man," Shane says, winking. "So... who was the manly-man-wannabe dancing with you?"  
>"I think his name is Jon something..." Hazel shrugs and casts a glance at her wrists. "Shit, he has my hair tie." She gathers her hair in her hand and brushes it to rest over her shoulder.<br>"Why would he have your hair tie?" Shane asks, frowning.  
>"Because apparently he liked my hair loose," Hazel shrugs. "Wouldn't you?" Then she casts a glance at Claire and straightens up, pulling her dress down to its original length. "I'm going to get a drink."<br>She returns with a tall glass filled with red that sort of morphs into yellow at the top. "Scoot," she orders Shane. He obliges and she sits down on the other side of him.

"Sex on the beach? Really? Because everybody just needs to know how sexy and vivacious you are?" Shane asks her.  
>Hazel bursts out laughing which turns into a series of coughs. Shane taps her on the back and Claire can't help but notice how his hand lingers just a few moments too long on her skin before pulling away.<br>"Bravo, Collins. Very good," Hazel says, still laughing. "Yes. That's exactly why."  
>Then she leans back and crosses her legs, causing her dress to hike up her leg and <em>goddamn<em> _it_, but she's got nice legs.  
>"Are you really not going to dance with your girl?" Hazel asks after a while.<br>"You _dragged_ me here, and no and please shut up. This music is giving me a headache," Shane says.

Claire, surprised, looks over at him. He was just laughing and bantering with Hazel.  
>"Pregnant, are we?" Hazel asks. "What's up with the mood swings?"<br>Shane stands up and Claire follows his movement with her gaze. Then he leans over Hazel, a hand braced on the wall above her head and tells her something but it's being drowned out by the loud music and all she can see is his face twisted with anger. Hazel widens her eyes at him before anger pulls her eyebrows down and she stands up, making Shane straighten up so she doesn't bump into him. Still she takes a step closer to him, a fingertip pressed against his chest, and although it seems as though she's yelling at him, only a few words reach Claire. "... no right... Claire... was _dance_... you asshole."  
>Shane calmly places a hand over hers – the one on his chest – although his face says he's anything but calm and says something to her as he drops her hand. Hazel takes a step back as though he hit her; her eyes studying his face. "Fine," she says and stalks over to the table, takes her drink and downs it. She slaps the glass down on the table hard enough to break it.<br>Hazel's dark eyes snap up to look into hers. "Your boyfriend is a fucking asshole. I salute you for putting up with him."  
>You did too, Claire wants to say but she refrains from it. Hazel looks <em>mad<em>, and sort of scary.  
>Hazel reaches her hand out and says, "Can I borrow your phone, please?"<br>Silently, Claire opens her purse, pulls out her phone and hands it over to Hazel who dials and puts her phone to her ear. "Angel. We're going home; get Eve and meet us by the entrance."  
>She snaps the phone shut and hands Claire's phone back to her. "Thank you. Come on, let's go. It's not even freaking new year's and the troll wants to go home."<br>Claire supposes 'the troll' is Shane and she hides a smile.

They wait by the entrance and a few minutes of enduring the awkward silence, Eve and Micheal arrive. Eve looks sweaty and her make-up is smudged and she's glaring at Shane. "Whaddup, party-pooper? Can't stand other people having fun?"  
>Shane turns around and heads for the car, his hand in Claire's. "Some of us have had too much fun. A little more fun and we'd have to worry about STDs and crap."<br>Hazel throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. "What the hell is wrong with you, Collins? I wasn't working a fucking corner, I was _dancing_. Get the stick out of your ass; if you weren't so busy being all macho, you could have had at least as much fun as I was having."  
>Micheal jogs over to her, wrapping an arm around her neck. "Hey, easy."<br>"He's being a dickhead!"  
>"Ditto," Eve agrees as she copies Micheal, slipping a hand around Hazel's waist.<br>Claire's looking back at them so she's the only one who notices the man clad in a black hoodie, approaching them from behind. He eventually speeds up, his hands by his sides, his eyes intent on Hazel's back.  
>"Hazel!" Claire screams as a warning.<p>

Micheal turns around first, then Hazel, but by then, the man – no, the _vampire_ – is already running so fast he's a blur. Claire takes a step forward, but her heels make her stumble and she falls to the ground, her hands pushed forward to break the fall.  
>She looks up just in time to see Hazel spinning away from the oncoming vampire, taking Eve with her. She reaches over Eve's head, grabs one of the silver chopsticks on her head and when the vampire turns around, plunges it into his chest.<br>Hazel smiles at the vampire, raising her heel-clad leg and kicks him right where she plunged the chopstick. He falls over, groaning.  
>"Don't you ever learn, Joshua?" Hazel asks him, crouching over him.<br>"I need the money, Hazel," he croaks. The hood that had been pulled up, casting shadows over his face now falls back to reveal red eyes that slowly ebb into a boring brown and hair in a tangled, dark mess. Claire's probably seen him sometime; he seems familiar but she finds it hard to place him. Shane's hand in front of her face distracts her; she puts her hand in his and he helps her up.  
>"Soon, I'm going to need your head, Josh," Hazel says. "I arrived yesterday, and this is the second time you've tried to kill me. Amelie won't be thrilled," she tells him before grabbing the chopstick and pulling it out of his chest.<br>Micheal moves to stop her but she straightens up after having wiped the chopstick on Joshua's shirt. "He's harmless, Angel. Stupid, though." She looks down at Joshua, her hair fluttering in the wind. "Next time, the silver stays."  
>And with that she turns her back, and walks towards the car. She turns around to face them, eyebrows raised. "You coming or not?"<br>"She's kinda badass," Claire breathes.  
>"That," Eve responds,"she is."<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Hope you like :)**

**_Enjoy,_**

I throw the door open and head straight for the kitchen, needing something to cool me off. The people of Morganville sure know how to make a girl feel welcome. I've been here for two days; already Joshua Smith has attacked me twice – a broke vampire who somehow is connected to the enemies of Amelie who want me dead.  
>Ah... the advantages of being a descendant of the founder.<br>Then I see Monica. The fire that's been simmering during the entire car ride flares and I'm a second away from punching the door to the kitchen. Somehow, I manage to refrain from it.  
>I walk over to the fridge, my heels tapping against the floor. Damn, my feet are hurting. For some reason I don't take my shoes off. Instead I just take a coke and close the door to the fridge so I can lean on it; it's cold against my heated skin and I shiver.<br>I've been doing everything in my power not to think of that night. But seeing Monica had awakened that memory that I could still remember so vividly. Sometimes, I can still hear her voice wailing my name.  
>"<em>Hazel!<em>"  
>I close my eyes, putting the can against my forehead.<br>In a desperate attempt to clear my head of that night and the guilt that is on its way to overpowering me, I think of the only thing that can distract me.  
>Shane.<p>

Instead of quenching the fire as I expected, the thought of him makes it intensify. Apparently, during these three years I've been romanticizing him; I've managed to forget that sometimes Shane was capable of being a first class asshole. A very jealous first class asshole.  
>The door to the kitchen opens and my eyes snap up to land on Eve. She looks at me and takes a step inside; her hair is loose since I'd taken one of the chopsticks out. Her eye-makeup is smudged and her lipstick a bit faded. She meets my eyes, a question in her eyes and I sigh.<br>"I know I'm throwing a tantrum," I say. "Let me."  
>Unfortunately, she takes my words as an invitation and comes to lean on the island. "No need to get snippy, Drew. And FYI, this," she pointed at me, "is a pity party. Tantrums usually include a lot of feet-stomping, yelling and door-banging. I see none of the above."<br>"You should know," I mutter.  
>"Hell yeah. My annual tantrum is just a few approvals away from becoming a national holiday. Like christmas. And halloween," she says.<br>Despite my anger, I chuckle. "Crazy Eve."  
>Eve smiles.<br>Slowly my smile ebbs away and I sigh. "I'm so sick of how everything _Shane_ makes me so sensitive." I look up at her. "Do you want to know why we left the club?"  
>Eve puts an elbow on the island and places her chin in her hand. "Micheal didn't say."<br>I crack open the coke and take a sip; cold sweetness washes through me and I exhale. "He'd seen me dance with this guy and you know how it is; you're single, you're dancing, it's hot, it's stuffy, it's dark and a hot guy comes up behind you. The result is..."

"Sexual, pornographic, deserving of an R rating – take your pick," Eve continues.  
>I laugh. "Yes. Precisely." I shrug. "And he saw that, and apparently he got mad. Went about how it was selfish of me to drag all of you there just so that I could enjoy myself." Well, he hadn't really used those <em>precise<em> words. "Then he kept asking me, 'Do you know how he was looking at you? The way he kept grabbing at you?' – God, he made me feel so embarrassed. You should have seen the look on his face. And when I responded, I pointed at him... you know, pressed my fingertip against his chest and when I was finished he just... took my hand and dropped it. 'Don't touch me,' he said, and you should have heard him Eve, his voice was _ice _and it was like he was so disgusted he had to _force_ the words out." I stop talking and swallow, not wanting the lump in my throat to break my voice.  
>"Babe..." Eve begins and comes to wrap her arms around me. My immediate reaction is to push her away but I realize that I'm so hungry for this; a hug, a real hug from a friend that I just lean against her.<br>"I'm so scared, Eve..." I say.  
>"From what, sweetie?" She asks, brushing a hand over my hair.<br>"I'm so scared he doesn't love me anymore," I whisper.

_Fire. Fire, everywhere. Black smoke billowing, shading the stars. But my eyes aren't on the stars, they're on the people gathered as I run past them, my eyes searching for the people who live in the house that is being swallowed up by the ruthless fire. My eyes land on Frank Collins; Lyss's father, and then her mother, finally my eyes land on Shane Collins; Alyssa's brother.  
>"Alyssa," I murmur, my eyes scanning the patch of grass the Collins' are standing on. Where the hell is she?<br>"Alyssa!" Shane screams, his eyes on the burning house. His mom's arms are around him, as though holding him back and I'm stuck with a horrific thought – too horrible to be true.  
>You know when you're hit with a thought that you entertain just for the sake of entertaining but you never really take it seriously because it is just too horrible to be real – what if Lyssa's still in there?<br>I run towards the front door, but there are men standing there and they grab on to me; firefighters I realize. I don't acknowledge what they're saying. Instead I run around the house, coming to stand beneath the window to her bedroom._

"_Alyssa! Alyssa! No, God, please. Alyssa! Lyss! Please, please answer me. Alyssa!"  
>All of a sudden there's a scream. Loud and piercing. I turn around to see who it is when I realize that it's coming from the window above me. It's Lyss.<br>"Lyssa! Lyssa! Please, Alyssa! Can you hear me?" I scream. Some detached part of my brain is telling me that I'm crying; but I can't sense that.  
>She hears me. "Hazel! <em>Hazel!_" But it's not a shout. She's not calling for me. She's wailing my name and something in me twists.  
>"Alyssa! ALYSSA! HELP!" I shriek. "HELP! SHE'S IN THERE! SHE'S IN THERE!" I run back to where the firefighters are trying to stifle the fire. "She's in there! She's calling for me. Please, she's in there. Help!"<br>I attract the attention of two of them look at me and one of them nods to the other. "Go, go, go!"  
>He grabs a ladder and I help him with it but by the time we get there, there are no screams anymore.<br>"Lyss! Lyss! I'm here, sweetie! Can you answer me? Lyssa!"  
>Nothing.<br>The firefighter puts the ladder up anyway and runs up. Hope makes my chest soar. But when he makes it up, he doesn't make any move to go inside.  
>"What the hell are you waiting for? Get in! Save her!" I scream at him.<br>He looks down at me and there's a sad, sad expression on his face and before he even starts to shake his head, the hope I feel deflates and everything in me is just gone. The tears stop. Everything in me stops. I feel nothing. I am nothing._

_My knees give out and I fall to the ground but I don't acknowledge the impact.  
>Someway, somehow, the next recollection I have is sitting in an ambulance with a blanket around my shoulders. People rush before me; back and forth, back and forth. I don't know if I know them. I don't know anything.<br>I just know that Lyss is... not here. And that should make me cry. But I don't. I don't know why. I want to cry. I want to release this terrible, terrible pressure in my chest but no tears come.  
>Then I hea<em>_r; __"__She killed her!"  
>I turn to the shout and find Shane, Lyssa's brother screaming. He falls to his knees as if his legs can't hold him up anymore and something in his face is so broken that I feel myself almost beginning to cry. The first thought that comes to mind is, 'killed who?' He answers the question for me. "She killed Alyssa!"<br>I stand up and feel the blanket fall to the ground, my eyes in the general direction of where Shane's eyes are directed and the first thing I see is Monica Morell. I've never had any beef with her since she knows to stay clear of me but if what Shane is saying is true... And from the look on her face he __is...  
>I don't know how to react. I just freeze. I turn to look at Shane as he tries to get up; I notice how his best friend Micheal Glass takes a step back. I would've too. But instead Richard Morell holds him down; he shakes him but Shane's eyes aren't on him. They're on Monica.<br>So are mine._

"...ey. Hazel. Wake up. Hazel!"  
>My eyes fly open and I scramble backwards until I realize it's Shane. I look around and find myself in the living room, on the couch and then my eyes return to him.<br>"I think you were having a bad dream," he says.  
>"I... Alyssa," I whisper. "Oh, God." I close my eyes.<br>"You dreamt about Alyssa?" Shane asks.  
>I nod, my eyes still closed and I feel tears escaping. "That night... I dreamt about that night when she..." A sob racks my body and I bury my face in my hands to cover the tears that start to fall. "I'm sorry," I say.<br>I feel Shane's hands on my wrists and I let him pull my hands down to my lap but I can't look at him as my shoulders shake with the force of my sobs. All I can think of is how she was screaming with pain; screaming my name. Hearing me, hoping for me to help her... and then dying when I didn't come. "God, I'm so sorry," I cry.  
>"Why are you apologizing?" I hear Shane whisper.<br>"Because I let her down," I cry. "She heard me and she screamed for me and I_ let her down_."  
>Shane comes to sit beside me on the couch, wraps an arm around me and draws me close to him. "You didn't let her down," he murmurs.<br>I nod. "Yes, I did," I say. "I keep imagining her hoping for me to help her when she heard me... what did she think of me when I didn't come? Or was she still hoping when she... when she –"  
>Shane's other arm comes to wrap around me and he almost crushes me to his chest. "Please, stop," he whispers.<br>I bring my hand to his shoulder, just so that I can hold on to something as despair fights to bring me under. "I can't," I realize.  
>"Haze, please," he murmurs.<br>My tears eventually dry and for a while, all I can think of is that this seems familiar; me, in his arms, crying my eyes out and when I finally realize why, I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying again.

I_ hold the flowers but try to loosen my grip. I send a prayer heavenwards that Frank Collins won't open the door as I knock.  
>There's no answer so I knock again. And again. By the time the door opens I don't care if it's Frank or the fucking Devil himself.<br>But it's Shane. He has dark circles under his eyes and a tense set to his wide shoulders. His hair looks unwashed and his clothes are wrinkled, as if he's been in them for weeks.  
>But when I finally look at his face, something in me breaks. Everything I've felt for the past weeks I see there; sorrow and despair beyond tears, beyond anything. To the point of numbness. To the point of fear from touching that numbness and awakening grief that never can be quenched.<br>I see my vision blur. I feel myself dropping the flowers. "Oh, God," I whisper. "Oh, God."  
>I don't know why. I just do it. I rush forward and wrap my arms around him and I cry.<br>Not too long afterwards his arms wrap around me and he starts sobbing into my neck so violently my whole body shakes. I want to speak; to comfort him, to comfort myself but I can't. I physically can't.  
>By the time we've stopped crying and dry sobs are wracking my body, some distant part of me acknowledges that night's fallen. We've somehow ended up on the floor with his back against the couch and me sitting across his lap with my temple on his shoulder. I'm exhausted.<br>We don't speak. Not even when Frank Collins comes in, looks at us and walks out again, silently __closing the door behind him.  
>I feel Shane's hand on the bracelet Lyss made me when I turned fifteen. I've worn it ever since. "I had to go with her to buy the beads. I was bored out of my mind. Kept telling her to hurry up." His voice is hoarse from all the crying and very low. The only reason I can hear him is because I'm sitting so close.<br>"I know," I whisper. I don't feel strong enough to speak any louder, too afraid to cry again. "She told me."  
>He doesn't say anything for a while, just twirls the bracelet around my wrist. "I'm such an idiot. Why didn't I... I could have–"<br>He breaks off when I put my hand on his mouth. "There's nothing you could have done." I say as I feel my vision begin to blur again. "But I..." I trail off and try to swallow the lump in my throat. "I heard her scream. By the time I'd gotten the firefighter–" I begin to cry again. My hand slips down his mouth and fist his shirt. "God, Shane... I can't anymore," I say but I don't think he understands what I'm saying. I barely understand.  
>He lets go of the bracelet and tightens his arms around me. He cries too, but not as loudly as me. The only reason I know that he is, is from the tears that start falling on my arms.<br>_

As if reading my mind, Shane's hand finds the bracelet on my wrist and I look down at it. Heart-shaped beads in pink, blue and white encircle my wrist and on some of the hearts are letters; Hazel, it says.  
>"You still wear that?" He asks.<br>"Always," I murmur. "The least I can do is remember her."  
>It's quiet for a while between us. "She really loved you, you know," Shane murmurs finally.<br>Tears gather in my eyes and I shrug. "She was my little sister."  
>Steps sound from the hallway and we pull apart guiltily as though we've been making out for the past fifteen minutes. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at ourselves.<br>"Shane?" We hear Claire call.  
>A moment later, she drags her feet downstairs while rubbing her eyes. When her eyes land on us, she drops her hand and raises her eyebrows. "What's going on?"<br>I dry my eyes and lean backwards, figuring she's asking Shane.  
>"Nothing. I came down to get something to drink and saw Hazel asleep; it looked like she was having a nightmare," he shrugs, standing up. "I woke her up," he says.<br>I look over at him and notice with a start that he isn't wearing a shirt. Soft, tan skin lays above finely defined muscle and I swallow. And those _shoulders;_ wide and drawn back. Jesus.  
>I return my gaze to Claire's before my scrutiny is revealed for what it really was; me checking him out, and find her staring at my body. Shane seems to be looking at the same area and I look down.<br>"Shit," I murmur softly. I'd changed into my silky kimono-robe before I'd gone downstairs, searching for the distraction of TV and now it's open, revealing a black bra and the better part of my bare stomach. My face flares with heat and I gather the fabric to cover me up to my collarbone. "Sorry," I mutter. "It probably got untied when I was sleeping."  
>"Yeah," Claire says, her voice filled with distrust. I don't blame her. Here she comes down in the middle of the night to find her boyfriend half-naked, sitting next to his ex with her boobs practically hanging out. But I continue to look her in the eyes, indifference clear on my face.<br>Finally her eyes settle back on Shane. "Sorry. I didn't find you and thought I'd come look for you," she says.  
>"Sorry, babe," Shane smiles at her and heads for the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"<br>"No," Claire smiles.  
>"You, Hazel?" He asks, looking at me.<br>My heart gives a jump when my eyes meets his and I shake my head. "No, thank you."  
>They both disappear behind the kitchen door.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Holler.**

**_Enjoy, _**

"Being forced to wake up before 9 am should be considered a human rights violation," I murmur, pressing the heels of my hands against my forehead.  
>Eve's head snaps up and her eyes settle on me with an intensity I could never muster this early in the morning. "That's brilliant." She gives me a cup of dark, steamy delicious coffee. "His Highness wants me in early today to provide the future of America with caffeine. Or you know, the brats of Texas Praire University. What are you up so early for?"<br>"Amelie," I say and take a sip from the coffee. I have to physically restrain myself from moaning out loud. "Eve. This coffee. Heaven."  
>Eve gives me a look. "Duh." She pulls out a chair and sits down opposite of me. "What does Amelie want at," she glances at her non-existent watch, "oh-my-God in the morning?"<br>I chuckle. "I have to formally announce my arrival to the Founder of Morganville," I say, adapting a crisp, I-have-a-stick-up-my-butt accent. "It's usually only vampires who do it when they're in town but seeing as how she's my great-great-great times a 100 grandmother, I have to do it as well."  
>Eve raises her eyebrows at me. "Yikes. Good luck, babe. Suddenly happier all I'm doing is pulling espresso shots."<br>"Count your blessings," I tell her and take a gulp from the scalding hot coffee.  
>Eve bounces up and walks – no, sorry, stomps – over to the kitchen sink. She puts down her coffee and turns to look at me. She smiles, and it's not sarcastic or wry. Just a smile. She glances down at her hand and it takes my brain a moment to realize that she's looking at her engagement ring. "I really should. I feel happier than I've been for a long time."<br>I answer her smile and happiness floods my chest at those words. Eve's like a sister to me; it might sound like a huge cliché but seeing her happy makes me happy as well. "You deserve it."  
>She grins at me and walks out of the kitchen.<p>

I finish my coffee in silence contemplating what I should wear today; something classic and feminine. It can't be too tight and it can't be too loose or else Amelie'll delve into "how to properly dress oneself when appearing in front of the Founder". I sigh, so weary I can feel it in my bones. I hadn't been able to sleep so well last night after the whole incident with Shane and Claire. Probably because when I walked up the stairs I'd heard giggling and whispers from Shane's room.  
>The memory brings a stabbing sensation to my chest and I gulp down some more coffee to unravel the knot in my throat.<br>Dread had made freeze and when that wore off I'd stepped closer to his door. I couldn't make myself go any closer than to stand in the middle of the hallway; something was yelling at me how wrong this was, how I should be respecting their privacy, how I should back the hell away but I something rooted me right where I was. It's just like watching a car crash; you know what you're about to witness will be horrible and terrible but you continue watching the accident that's about to take place.  
>I'd heard as the laughter had ebbed away, heard it be replaced with something else; something more quiet and intense and I heard his name over and over again and I just couldn't. I'd teared myself away from there because tears where fighting to spring free and I just couldn't.<br>But I'd miscalculated how old this house is. How the floorboards groan when you walk too carelessly. I'd once memorized which floorboards were soundless and which yelled out in protest at the merest pressure when I lived here so that I wouldn't wake any of the others when tiptoeing into the bathroom during the night.

But this time I'd been too tired and everything hurt too much and felt so wrong that I didn't think. I just turned and started walking. But I didn't freeze up, I kept walking, even when I heard the very faint, "Wait," from his room.  
>I'd buried my face in Eve's pillow and I'd yelled out my frustration and pain. I only stopped when I heard someone knocking on my door. Then very softly, Shane said "Hazel?"<br>That's when I'd fisted my hands and started crying as soundlessly as I could.  
>"Hazel, I'm sorry."<br>For a second, my tears had stopped and my lungs refused to draw in another breath until I figured out whether he knew I'd heard them, knew I was crying, knew it was killing me.  
>"I don't know if you're awake but if you... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to hear that."<br>Shame had coursed through me then. Was I that pitying that he felt the need to apologize to me? That he _knew_ that me hearing them would hurt me?  
>That had been enough to stop my tears.<br>I drink the last bit of coffee and go over to the fridge, ready for some breakfast now that I can open my eyes.  
>I hear the door open and turn around with Nutella and bread in my hands. I find myself staring at Claire.<br>The hate that fills me at her sight almost makes me wince. Instead, with the memory of how embarrassed I was last night I smile at her. "Nutella?"  
>Her brown eyes widen. "No thanks. I'm going to have some cereal."<p>

I smile at her and go over to sit at the counter, figuring she'll want to sit by the table. I don't feel sane enough to sit by her without screaming so I stretch my legs and rest my feet against the granite island. The fabric of my silk robe falls, revealing my stretched out leg and I pretend to miss her glance. I refuse to acknowledge the awkward silence that descends on us and calmly spread a thick cover of Nutella over my piece of bread.  
>It's only when she starts to eat that she cracks. "About last night," she starts and my heart stutters in my heart. How is it possible that they saw me? Last time I checked no one in this house has ex-ray vision, so what the hell?<br>"What about last night?" I ask, hoping my voice doesn't sound like I'm on the verge of panic.  
>"I'm sorry about how I came down on you and Shane. I know nothing happened..." She looks up at me. "Shane told me about you and Alyssa." Is it wrong that I absolutely detest Alyssa's name on her lips? "About how close you were and that you had a dream about the night she died. I know he was only comforting you. It was unfair of me to come down like that on you," she says.<p>

I smile at her, anger and hatred rolling around in my chest. "Don't worry about it. You were a lot more gracious than I would've been in your shoes."  
>Claire smiles and it's so sweet that I feel a pang of shame go through me. This isn't her fault. Why am I blaming her? "Shane says before you got together, he had a major crush on you," she says.<br>My head snaps up and I frown at her from the second bread I'm slathering Nutella on. "He did?"  
>Claire's smile widens. "You didn't know?"<br>I raise my eyebrows. "No, I mean... I guessed as much because at every chance he'd get he flirted like crazy but he always denied it when I asked or teased him about it. Eventually I just thought it was hormones that made him so... hands-on."  
>Claire laughs and I find myself smiling. "He said everybody thought you were the hottest girl in school but very few wanted to ask you out."<br>I tilt my head to the side, chuckling. "Why not?"  
>"They were too intimated by you," she says.<br>I frown. "Oh. Right." I grab a bite from my sandwich. "Since Amelie's my guardian."

Claire leans back in her chair, sweeping a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I don't think that's it. You're pretty badass."  
>My smile diminishes. "I have to be," I tell her, looking at her. "It was either that or get killed."<br>Claire freezes. "What do you mean?"  
>I smile wryly. "I guess Shane didn't tell you about my parents." I lean my head back at the cupboards. "Being a descendent of the Founder is a privilege. Naturally." I add with sarcasm. "You're rich, people abide to your wishes, some fear you... But my life is in constant danger because some people will want to use me to hurt Amelie. I'm human, which makes me very fragile. And a great hostage for humans who want to get out of this hellhole and vampires who want to get in." I shrug. "My parents were killed by vampires who had some sort of beef with Amelie. I was around four so I don't remember much. They left me alive, not because of a bleeding heart but as a warning. Amelie killed them all, of course." I chuckle, without humor. "For the same reason they didn't kill me. As a warning, not a bleeding heart." I look at Claire and shrug. "That's why I'm a 'badass'." I smile at her. "I'm sorry. I don't usually tell that to people; it ruins the mood and people start to feel sorry for me."<p>

Claire's quiet for a while as I make myself a third sandwich. When she starts to apologize, I break her off. "No. Seriously. I don't want nor need your pity. I love life; I have great shoes, and a great haircut and apparently I'm a good enough artist. My parents and all that is in the past." I smile at her. "It's all good."  
>Claire exhales. "Okay. But what about Eve and the others?"<br>"Well," I say, taking a bite off my sandwich. "With Shane... it was kind of Alyssa's death that brought us together. When I saw him... afterwards, I could see that he shared the same pain that I was going through and we sort of just started to heal together. Before I knew it he'd become a permanent fixture of my life and I didn't know how to live without him. It took me a while to figure out that what I was feeling was love. Micheal was sort of a package deal," I chuckle, looking at Claire. "You couldn't have Shane and not get Micheal. And that was good; I was always kind of curios about Micheal. He was hot as hell," I say and laugh when Claire nods, grinning. "And he had, or has, this sense of calm that is so comforting. I've always loved being in his presence. But aside for a minor crush at him... I mean, the guy plays guitar like a wet dream come true." Claire laughs at that and I chuckle. "Aside for that minor crush, there were no other feelings than what I would've felt towards a brother."  
>Claire grins. "And Eve?"<br>"Eve..." I begin, smiling. "Eve was actually the only person aside from Alyssa who actually approached me. We were lab partners and I wanted to throttle her the first few times we worked together."  
>Claire chuckles. "The sarcasm?"<br>"Yes!" I say. "I mean, seriously, her sarcasm was _eroding_. But there was something about her, that I identified with. Our parents were both... absent. But in different ways. We started talking and I realized that she wasn't just this emo girl who liked black and was fluent in sarcasm, but she was _sweet_. It could be the smallest thing; bringing me a doughnut when she went to buy coffee, or smiling at me when I thanked her for something. And for other people that might be normal, and expected but it came as such a surprise because it was _Eve Rosser_, doing all those things. We became best friends when I moved to the Glass house." I grin. "And that's the story."  
>Claire smiles and stands up. "I need to get to Myrnin before he blows my cell phone up."<br>I frown at her. "Myrnin? Amelie's Myrnin? Crazy vampire Myrnin who spends the majority of his time behind bars?"

"That's the one," Claire says, smiling. "He's not locked up anymore, though."  
>I widen my eyes at her. "Why the hell not? He's a freaking health hazard. Last time I saw him, he stated very intricate threats towards my person if I so much as blinked in his direction. He was awfully polite stating them, though."<br>Claire comes over to drop her bowl into the basin. "He was really sick back then. That's why Amelie had him locked up but he's... cured, I guess is the right term."  
>"Huh..." I say. "Does he still dress really weirdly?"<br>Claire laughs. "It's a combo of hawaiian shirts and vampire bunny slippers. You be the judge."  
>I give a startled laugh. "Man, I gotta see that."<br>"See you later, Hazel," Claire says and heads for the door.  
>"See you. Oh, and next time, we talk about you," I say.<br>She smiles. "Deal."  
>Just as she's exiting, Shane walks in and she ends up walking into him. His hair is mussed from sleep and his eyes droopy in the way that can only be described as bedroom-eyes. He smiles at Claire who starts to blush furiously, so I turn away and focus on my sandwich. Crap. I really don't want to see him. I can't quite muster up the willingness to talk to him while the memory of his apology from last night is so fresh in my head.<br>I hear them exchanging hellos and I hear one whispered innuendo about last night that makes me want to jump off the sink and run out the door that he's blocking. I inhale and remember the shame from last night. I can't have them pitying me; least of all, him. I don't want him to find me so tragic that he feels the need to apologize to me for something he doesn't need to apologize for because he knows that it hurts me.

"You okay?"  
>I snap my head up and look at Shane. The blood roars in my ears as my heart starts beating faster and I <em>blush<em>. I haven't blushed in years and still I blush from one word from Shane.  
>"I'm fine," I smile at him anyway and look away. "Sleep well?"<br>He freezes just as I realize my error. Fuck. He's gonna think I meant... _Oh shit_.  
>"My head was pounding like crazy after you woke me up," I say, keeping my voice devoid of any emotion. "I guess crying does that to you. But it was all good after I took an aspirin."<br>Shane's muscles sort of unlock and he stares at me for a while before I choose to look away. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay," he says. "I didn't want to upset Claire."  
>I look down at my legs, realize that they're bare and hurry to cover them up with my robe. "Claire has nothing to worry about." I say, hopping down to the floor. Despite my blush I look up at him and into his eyes. God, he's sexy. "Right?"<br>Shane studies my face for a while before nodding. "Right."  
>Then his eyes drop to my chest and I roll my eyes at him out of instinct. "Eyes up here, Collins."<br>"Uh... Yeah. I know." He looks up at me, worry in his eyes. "Look. Don't freak out."  
>I frown at him, and start to look down at my chest. "Why would I fre –" I break off when he puts his hands on my face, pulling my face back up. My heart stutters in my chest. "What the hell, Shane?"<br>His eyes are still on my chest. "Haze, there's a spider on you. Just don't –"  
>He breaks off when I start screaming and patting at my chest. "What the hell, what the hell, what the hell! Where?! Oh my God! Shane! Take it off! "<br>"Fine! Just give me a second," he yells, his eyes trained on my boobs. "It's on your freaking chest! I didn't wanna go groping around!" He says  
>"Just fucking take it off!" I yell at him.<br>"If someone hears you right now..." he mutters and removes his hands from my face to brush of the spider. "There."

I hop away and sort of stumble into him and I'm so panicked that I grab onto him and start walking him backwards. I look over my shoulder and see a spider the size of my palm scuttling away and I shriek, fisting my hands in his shirt and sort of jumping up and down and away, wanting my feet _off_ the floor.  
>Shane's hands instinctively wrap around my ribcage and it's not until he laughs out loud that I realize how stupid I must be looking. I glare at him but he just keeps on laughing until I can't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing too.<br>When that laughter is eventually replaced with chuckles, I become very much aware of his hands wrapped around me and how right it feels. Suddenly even the chuckles are gone as I look up at him. He seems to have come to the same realization, because I find his eyes on me.  
>His brown eyes hold me there and I can't do much more than unlock my fingers in his shirt until my hands are simply resting on his chest. I want to reach up and brush his hair away from his face, stroke my thumb over his underlip, follow the contours of his cheekbones with my fingertips but uncertainty wraps its tentacles around my body, freezing me.<br>His eyes don't leave mine as his hands slide down my ribcage, over my waist and down my hips, and his hands are so _slow_. His hands are big and warm through the silk of my robe, it feels like _torture_ and my eyes threaten to close but I keep them trained on his.  
>Finally, his hands drop to his sides and I'm so scared he's gonna ask me to remove my hands from his chest that I sort of flinch away and drop them them to my sides as though I got burned.<br>"Sorry," he mutters, eyes on the floor and walks around me.

I want to stay, turn around and wrap my arms around his waist and tell him that I don't want his apology, that he can do much, much more than that without having to apologize.  
>But I don't. I'm afraid he'll reject me, and my emotions are too raw from last night to withstand that.<p>

So instead I walk out of the kitchen, run up the stairs and into Eve's room, all the while trying not to hyperventilate.  
>Eventually, I settle on a pair of high-waisted slacks and a creamy button-down made of silk that I tuck into the slacks. I straight-iron my hair and put on a pair of diamond earrings Amelie presented me with on my seventeenth birthday.<br>I run a hand through my hair, gathering it at my back and study my reflection in the mirror. Not bad. Chances are Amelie won't complain.  
>Because I know the slacks will partly cover my shoes, I put on a pair of dark blue, although bright, pumps and smile at the color that flashes whenever I walk.<br>There's nothing to restore a girl's good mood like nice heels.  
>The only thing to complete the look is a watch with white crystals embedded into it.<br>I smile, and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me. The honk outside announces that my car is here and I carefully descend the stairs.  
>"Morning, Hazel."<p>

I look up and smile at Micheal. "Morning, Angel."  
>He grins at the nickname. "Where are you going this early in the morning? I thought you hated being up this early."<br>I nod at him, smiling. "I do." I shrug. "Amelie doesn't though."  
>His eyes widen. "You're going to Amelie?"<br>"Yeah," I say. "You know, formally announcing my presence, yada, yada. Why?"  
>"I need to talk to her, actually," he says, a frown forming between his eyebrows.<br>I smile. "Then, come with me. I could use some company." I walk ahead of him. "I'll tell the driver you're coming to so that he can bring an umbrella," I tell him.  
>The only response I get from the driver as I announce the vampire addition is a slight nod. He quickly takes out an umbrella from the trunk of the black car and walks up the stairs.<br>Micheal is in front of the door, in a heavy leather jacket and a silly hat that I'm guessing belongs to Eve, in an instant.  
>I slide into the car, and before I have time to settle in, Micheal slides in next to me.<br>I stare at him. "This is gonna take some time getting used to."  
>Micheal laughs and leans back in his seat. He looks over at me, his blue eyes twinkling and I frown at him in suspicion. "What?"<p>

He smirks, buffing his nails on his shirt and looking them over. "So I hear I play the guitar like a wet dream come true."  
>I give a startled laugh. "This is gonna be a long drive."<p> 


	8. Chapter 9 (Shane POV)

**SHANE POV! Haha, I acted on an impulse and wrote this. Had to skip over Hazel meeting Amelie though, but I'll get back to that.  
>That's why this is the ninth chapter and not the eighth.<strong>

_**Enjoy!**_

Shane's head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. Hazel walked in, flinging her hair over her shoulder and turned around, eyeing whatever that stood outside the door. "Come now, Angel," she smiled.  
>He recognized the nickname she'd always used on Micheal and smiled. Not that he'd ever admit this but it felt real good to have Hazel here. He hadn't realized how much her presence was missed until she showed up again. That might have been because he refused to acknowledge it, partly because she'd pretty much grabbed his heart, shattered it in tiny pieces, stomped on it and walked away when she'd left. And, ha. He'd have his balls in burning acid before he ever admitted that, but he'd be fucking stupid to deny it. He'd loved her. Hell, he'd planned on it being the two of them forever and she'd just left... He draws a deep breath when the feeling that had been a constant the months after she'd left resurfaces. Crap.<p>

He looked up at her from the couch and caught her smiling at Micheal as she closed the door behind him. She said something to him and he laughed. She joined in, her straight hair falling back when she tipped her head back. She had nice hair, he mused, but he liked it the way it was naturally. Curly and slightly disheveled as if she'd just woken up. He remembered how he'd loved her hair, how much it'd turned him on, dark strands in big curls around her neck and down her back. And good God, but when that hair was spread across his pillow... it had been the one of the sexiest things he knew.

Shane didn't know if he still felt the same way about her hair; he still thought it looked sexy, but then again Hazel has always been sexy. He might love Claire more than anything; just the thought of Claire made him all warm and gooey inside, no joke, but goddamn it, he wasn't fucking dead.

He didn't desire and he absolutely didn't think he still loved Hazel, but he'd have to be at least blind to not acknowledge that Hazel was freaking hot.

Right now, she was leaning against the wall, talking to Micheal and even though he couldn't even begin to understand the meaning behind those awful pants she was wearing, they looked good on her. Not even broad-ass pants could hide her body. The pants were tight enough around her midsection for him to see how small her waist is. He knew how broad her hips are; he'd seen them countless times – bare, and clothed. Damn, he'd traced the dip between her hips and her waist so many times, he'd felt like he could paint her with his eyes closed. He knew how hard she worked on her body; countless times they'd went to the gym together – her running in front of him on the treadmill, the sweat dripping down her neck and beneath the t-shirt she always wore that belonged to him. Watching her as she stretched, her body languid and graceful, witnessing her hitting the weights like it was nobody's business.

Shane leaned back in the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. He could see that she hadn't let herself go; hadn't let California soften her. If anything, she looked better now; there were definite changes in her face. She looked more mature, her face slightly sharper, and her body somehow fuller.

"Keep drooling like that, Collins and I might start accusing you of feeling frisky," the familiar voice said.  
>Shane's eyes snapped up, meeting her gaze and his lips slid into an easy grin. "Whoa... Letting your fantasies affect reality, Haze? You look like an old lady force clothed you in... whatever the hell that is," he said, giving her pants a pointed look.<br>Micheal laughed and shook his head, coming over to sit on the couch farther away from me.  
>Hazel scrunched up her face and chuckled. A lot had changed over the years, but her laughter hadn't. It was still the same tinkling sound that used to bring an urge to make her keep laughing.<p>

"I had to meet Amelie, you ass. I know about your plaid skirt fetish, Collins, but I doubt Amelie would've been thrilled if I'd walked in looking like a fourteen year old schoolgirl from Japan," she rolled her eyes and came to take a seat beside Micheal.

Shane laughed. "Christ. Short plaid skirts... they're going to be the death of me."  
>Hazel grinned. "I really don't get it. You should convert to wet-t-shirts or <em>bondage<em> or something."

He tok on an impassioned voice, trying and failing miserably at impersonating a British accent. "Nev-ah," he said. Then he looked at her. "What the hell would you know of bondage, anyway?"  
>Hazel wiggled her eyebrows at him and crossed her legs. An image of Hazel, wrists bound to a bedpost, eyes closed, lips parted, writhing underneath some dude, completely naked brings a wave of jealousy and protectiveness, despite that there was a big chance she was just messing around with him.<p>

Shane somehow managed to maintain the easy grin. "Oh, really? You animal."

Hazel winked at him. "You should try it. Complete control and all that shit. You might like it."  
>He clenched his jaw and was in the process of trying to ground something out when Micheal exhaled loudly.<p>

"Are you seriously discussing this?" He askd.

Hazel narrowed her eyes at him. "I had to listen to what sounded like an erotic audiobook on repeat the other night; and it wasn't like soft little groans here and there," Shane watched Micheal's eyes grow bigger with disbelief as Hazel continued. "Oh no. It was full on, bed-smashing-against-the-wall-oh-Micheal-harder-yes-yes-right-there- kind of shit."

Shane found himself officially scarred.

"I am scarred for life," Haze continued, mirroring his thoughts. "I will never be the same. So yes, Micheal, we are seriously discussing this."

Micheal's wide eyes rose to meet his. "Oh yeah. She went there," Shane said. He scrunched his face up in distaste. "I will never look at you the same, man."

Micheal rose from the couch. "You need a pair of earbuds, and you need to stick the roommate- rule," he told Haze. "Seriously."

Hazel rolled her eyes. "I need a good night's sleep; and I haven't gotten one since I got here. First it's you and Eve. And last night it was Sh–" she broke off, her eyes whipping around to meet his.

Complete silence descended as Shane started to feel horror from last night slowly creeping back. Fuck. Fuck, she'd been there. She'd heard.  
>"What's happening?" Micheal asked, eyes shifting between him and Hazel.<p>

Hazel recovered first. "Nothing," she stood up. "I'm going up to change. These heels are killing me."

"Haze–" Shane started.

"No," Hazel cut him off. "Don't even–" She shook her head and looked at him. "I need to change. Do not follow me."

She all but ran up the stairs and despite her warning, Shane stood up to follow her.

"Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?" Michael asked, stopping him in his tracks.

Shane turned to face him. What the hell was he going to say? She'd heard him getting it on with his girl? She obviously seemed horrified that he now knew that she had heard him and Claire and he knew how bad it was for her. He knew how Hazel operates, knew how wounded her pride would be if he so much as tried to apologize. But telling Micheal? He'd started to look at her like someone kicked her puppy which would drive her absolutely mad.

"I'd tell you if I could, man. It's... It's between Hazel and I. Can't tell you more," Shane settled with.

Micheal studied him for a while. "Look, man. I know who Hazel is and I know who she is to you, but you can't let yourself forget about Claire."  
>Sudden anger overtook Shane and he stepped forward. "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about. It'll always be Claire. Nothing can change that and your reminder does nothing for me but make me suspect you're doubting what I feel towards Claire." He stared at Michael. "You know who Haze is to me, but you also know who <em>Claire<em> is to me. I'd never do anything to hurt her."

Michael nodded. "Good. 'Cause I'd–"

"Have me for breakfast. Literally. And I'd let you, man," Shane stared at him for a while before turning around and running up the stairs.

He threw Eve's door open which was probably a bad idea because Hazel was standing half-naked, in a pair of sweatpants and a bra in front of her closet.  
>She whipped around and he gulped when his eyes fell to her chest. Crap. <em>Crap<em>. White lace wrapped around her breasts and his earlier notions about how she'd changed were confirmed. She was...fuller. He snapped his eyes up to hers though before she caught him looking.

"I told you not to follow me, Collins. And seriously. Ever heard of knocking? It's what you usually do before entering someone's room. It involves tapping against the door with your knuckles which elicits this sound that notifies the owner of the bedroom that there is someone who wants to meet them and gives said owner time to make herself or himself presentable." Hazel looked down at the almost-bare torso and up at him pointedly.

He swallowed. Christ, he had no idea how the hell he was going to get out of this. He couldn't apologize, because she'd blow up, he couldn't remain silent, or she'd demand why the there had been a lack of reaction on his part, and one minor mistake in words would bring Hazel to spit fire at him.  
>"We need to talk about last night," he murmured.<p>

She arched her brow at him and opened her mouth.  
>Here we go.<p> 


End file.
